PERMELIA  COREY  THOMSON 


EX  LTBRIS 
JOSEPH  M  GT. 


University  of  California  •  Berkeley 


How  the  Coreys  Went  West 


Fifty  Years  in  Crossing  the  Continent 


1908 

PRESS    OF    FRYE    &    SMITH 
SAN    DIEGO,    CAL. 


,(?7f 


69350 


T 


PREFACE 

9|B 

HIS  LITTLE  BOOK  is  my 
simple  sum  in  addition.  I 
have  put  together  two  and  two  to 
make  four,  and  the  result  of  my 
experience  I  give  to  friends  who 
may  be  wanting  to  learn  about  the 
early  days  of  the  settlement  of  our 
country,  and  the  privations  and 
hardships  of  pioneer  life. 

PlCRMBUA   CORBY  THOMSON. 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 

I An  Evening  Spin 

II Lost  in  the  Arkport  Woods 

III Patty's  Home 

IV Getting  Ready  for  Cold  Weather 

V The  Unexpected  Happens 

VI The  Twin  Babies 

VII Neighbor  Whipple's  House  Raising 

VIII Going  West  to  Look 

IX A  Traveler  on  the  Road 

X The  First  Move 

XI Strange  Callers 

XII The  Log-Rolling  Bee 

XIII The  Bashful  Blacksmith 

XIV The  Backwoods  School 

XV Hickory  Corners 

XVI General  Training 

XVII Hard  Times 

XVIII Going  West  Again 

XIX The  Bride  Mehitabel  Goes  West 

XX Patty  Goes  Home  to  Rest 

XXI Still  Moving  On 

XXII A  Christmas  Blizzard 

XXIII A  Faithful  Dog 

XXIV  .  .  Bound  for  the  Land  of  Sunshine 


AN  EVENING  SPIN. 


CHAPTER  I. 

In  the  early  days  several  Corey  Brothers  emigrated 
from  Connecticut  to  Pennsylvania  and  became  proprietors 
in  the  Connecticut  Purchase  in  the  valley  of  Wyoming. 
They  builded  themselves  homes  of  comfort  and  had  grow- 
ing crops  with  flattering  prospects,  when  the  Indians  and 
Tories  invaded  their  peaceful  valley,  killed  their  able-bodied 
men,  burned  their  homes  and  destroyed  their  crops.  Alvin, 
a  lad  of  seventeen,  after  seeing  his  brothers  scalped  by  the 
Indians  flung  himself  into  the  river  and  floated  down  to 
Forty  Fort,  where  were  collected  for  safety  the  old  men, 
women  and  children,  and  with  them  he  took  up  a  sad  march 
back  to  Connecticut. 

When  peace  and  quiet  were  restored  and  the  Colonies 
were  finally  declared  an  independent  government,  some  of 
the  children  of  these  unfortunate  Colonists  came  back,  hop- 
ing to  reclaim  a  portion  of  this  Purchase  as  their  lawful 
inheritance;  but,  being  unsuccessful,  Alvin  drifted  to  the 
little  town  of  Almond,  Allegheny  County,- New  York.  Here 
he  built  a  grist  mill  on  the  Canisteo  River  and  depended 
on  the  toll  of  the  grist  for  his  family's  bread.  "Blessed  is 
the  man  who  has  found  his  work,"  and  blessed  is  the  wo- 
man, too,  who  has  it  in  her  power  to  make  a  paradise  out 
of  such  humble  surroundings. 

Mrs.  Corey's  home  was  a  plain  two-story  house,  walled 
on  the  East  and  on  the  West  by  mountains  so  high  the 


sun  was  never  up  from  behind  the  Eastern  hill  in  time  for 
breakfast;  and  then  it  disappeared  again  by  the  middle  of 
each  afternoon  behind  the  Western  hill.  She  felt  robbed 
of  much  of  the  sunshine  of  every  day  life  by  this  choice 
of  a  location. 

After  her  day's  work  was  out  of  the  way  and  the  great 
wheel  put  back  against  the  wall,  she  turned  her  back  on 
the  square  room,  so  bare,  to  face  a  cheerful  bright  wood 
fire  blazing  on  the  broad,  rough  hearth,  to  take  her  even- 
ing spin.  Placing  a  foot  on  the  treadle  of  her  little  wheel 
and  her  fingers  to  flax  on  the  distaff,  she  gracefully  drew 
out  thread  which  would  clothe  her  household  in  linen. 

The  wheel  was  so  used  to  the  business  of  running 
that  her  hand  and  foot  worked  mechanically,  so  she  freely 
let  her  thoughts  wander  off  on  what  might  have  been  her 
lot  in  life  had  justice  been  done  her  father,  who  was  born 
heir  to  the  throne  of  England ;  and  she  imagined  she  could 
almost  see  before  her  in  those  glowing  coals  visions  of 
castles  of  splendor  and  a  merry  throng  in  sparkling  jewels, 
and  she  felt  like  cursing  that  arbitrary  marriage  law  of 
England  which  forbade  marriage  for  love  outside  the 
Royal  circle. 

King  George  the  Third,  while  Prince  of  Wales, 
with  the  throne  before  him,  met  at  Waterloo  Place,  London, 
a  beautiful  young  quakeress,  Hannah  Lightfoot,  and  fall- 
ing desperately  in  love  he  determined  to  win  her  heart  and 
hand  and  at  once  marry  her,  knowing  the  opposition  that 
would  naturally  follow  such  a  marriage  with  a  plain  quak- 
eress. He  gained  his  suit,  and  the  marriage  was  said  to 
have  been  duly  solemnized  according  to  the  rites  and  cere- 

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monies  of  the  Church  of  England,  and  was  witnessed  by 
William  Pitt  and  Annie  Taylor.  Their  first  born  son  was 
denied  recognition  and  the  family  name,  and  was  christened 
by  the  name  Parks,  after  the  beautiful  parks  nearby.  When 
older  he  was  induced  to  renounce  all  claim  to  the  throne 
and  was  sent  to  America  for  his  home ;  and  Prudence  was 
his  daughter. 

Mrs.  Corey  was  raising  a  small  regiment  of  sturdy 
sons,  who  would  soon  be  ready  to  go  out  from  their  moth- 
er's watchful  care  to  take  up  work  with  axe  and  plow, 
and  she  breathed  many  a  silent  prayer  that  they  all  might 
become  good  and  loyal  citizens  in  their  beloved  country. 

The  royal  blood  in  their  veins  might  not  be  rich 
enough  to  be  recognized  in  a  business  world — and  no  in- 
fluential hand  would  be  likely  to  be  held  out  to  them  in- 
viting them  to  enter  important  places,  where  they  might 
grow  in  favor  and  finally  be  able  to  leave  their  mark  side 
by  side  with  other  noted  business  men.  She  said,  "Surely 
they  cannot  all  be  millers  in  this  little  town." 

The  struggle  to  satisfy  the  wants  of  such  a  large  fam- 
ily was  often  taxing  to  the  miller,  but  he  was  never  tempted 
to  take  more  toll  than  the  lawful  measure.  He  often  pot- 
tered about  his  mill  till  an  unusually  late  hour,  waiting  for 
the  hopper  to  run  empty  so  he  could  add  the  toll  of  the  last 
grist  to  the  bin,  which  would  help  out  with  the  baking  next 
day,  and  then  he  would  look  anxiously  into  the  bin,  wonder- 
ing if  the  amount  would  be  sufficient  to  fill  the  great  brick 
oven.  He  knew  full  well  how  carefully  Prudy  would  mix 
and  mould  into  different  ways  the  little  she  might  have  to 
do  with  so  that  nothing  would  be  wasted.  He  had  seen  the 

ii 


pot  of  yeast  set  aside  for  the  baking,  foaming  and  rising 
at  such  a  rate  that  he  imagined  if  it  were  emptied  into  the 
flour  bin  it  would  leaven  the  whole  and  fill  the  bin.  He  was 
thankful  that  his  wife  had  such  a  complete  control  over  her 
yeast  pot.  He  remembered  seeing  the  rye  and  Indian  loaf 
when  it  was  put  into  the  bake-kettle,  then  only  half  full; 
but,  when  turned  out  in  the  morning  piping  hot  from  where 
it  had  steamed  all  night  with  coals  of  fire  underneath  and 
coals  on  the  lid,  the  loaf  had  become  full  grown  and  filled 
the  kettle  to  the  brim ;  and  it  was  so  delicious  with  butter 
fresh  from  the  churn.  He  said,  "Prudence  will  do  her  part. 
She  looketh  well  to  the  ways  of  her  household,  and  eateth 
not  the  bread  of  idleness." 


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LOST  IN  THE  ARKPORT  WOODS.* 


CHAPTER   II. 

At  one  time  news  spread  through  the  town  like  wild- 
fire that  Patty  Jennings,  a  tavern  girl,  was  lost  in  the  big 
woods.  The  night  was  dark,  and  grave  fears  were  enter- 
tained about  the  poor  girl's  safety. 

Rufus  Corey  was  familiar  with  these  woods,  so  dense, 
so  dark  and  dreary,  having  lived  in  them  for  months  at 
a  time,  traveling  over  the  rugged  mountains  and  down  the 
deepest  ravines  in  search  of  the  haunts  of  the  bear  and 
licks  of  the  deer.  He  was  familiar  with  the  screeching 
of  the  panther  and  wildcat  and  the  howling  of  the  wolf, 
with  the  gobble  of  the  wild  turkey  and  the  bleating  of 
the  fawn.  They  were  music  in  his  ear  and  enlivened  his 
hours  of  solitude. 

He  hurried  into  his  buckskin  breeches,  put  on  his 
hunting  frock  and  fringed  cape,  knotted  a  piece  of  white 
linen  about  his  head,  and  tied  a  hank  of  leather  strings 
around  his  neck  to  be  handy  in  case  of  emergency;  and 
then  with  tinderbox  and  lantern  he  seemed  thoroughly 
equipped  for  a  chase,  and  looked  like  some  Prince  of  the 
Wilderness. 

He  made  for  the  woods  as  fast  as  possible,  and  very 
soon  his  search  began  in  earnest. 


*  Now  Hornellsville,  N.  Y. 

13 


He  found  trails  leading  off  in  every  direction;  but 
while  trying  to  trace  the  track  of  a  horse  he  found  a  low 
shoe  stuck  fast  in  the  mire,  which  he  felt  quite  sure  must 
belong  to  the  missing  girl. 

Patty  had  ridden  over  to  Arkport  to  see  the  town 
and  enjoy  a  holiday,  and  being  belated  in  starting  home 
night  overtook  her  in  the  midst  of  the  woods.  When  the 
sun  went  down  behind  the  western  mountain,  like  a  cur- 
tain suddenly  dropped,  it  nearly  shut  out  the  light  of  day 
and  made  the  narrow  path  faint  and  difficult.  Old  Gray 
was  determined  to  have  his  own  way,  but  she  dared  not 
trust  his  judgment  and  give  him  a  loose  rein.  She  feared 
he  might  go  astray.  Leaves  began  to  rustle  overhead  and 
strange  sounds  filled  the  air.  Little  birds  fluttered  by  on 
their  way  home  to  the  dense  pines  to  roost,  and  night- 
hawks  and  screech-owls  appeared  on  the  scene  to  take 
their  watch  and  make  night  gloomy  with  their  music.  She 
grew  frightened  at  thoughts  of  her  situation.  Yet  what 
could  she  do  but  bravely  meet  her  danger?  She  would 
try  to  select  a  camping  ground  before  the  last  ray  of 
the  setting  sun  should  disappear  and  she  be  left  in  total 
darkness. 

So  getting  off  her  horse,  with  bridle  in  hand,  firmly 
grasped,  she  pulled  with  all  her  might  and  drew  the  horse 
aside.  Just  then  she  stepped  into  a  swampy  place,  but 
she  succeeded  in  drawing  herself  out  with  only  the  loss 
of  a  shoe;  and  finally  she  found  her  way  around  to  a  dry 
knoll  where,  placing  the  saddle  on  a  fallen  tree  for  a  seat, 
she  mounted  it,  drew  her  horse's  head  into  her  lap  and, 
with  the  stirrups  in  her  hand,  was  ready  to  clap  them  to- 


gether  and  make  fire  fly  should  any  wild  beasts  appear; 
for  this,  she  had  been  told,  would  frighten  the  most  blood- 
thirsty animals.  Then  she  felt  quite  settled  and  comfort- 
able, although  several  times  she  heard  brush  crackle  and 
thought  she  saw  in  the  dim  distance  balls  of  fire,  which 
she  decided  must  be  the  eyes  of  wildcats,  coming  toward 
her;  at  which  she  resolutely  clapped  the  harder,  until  a 
shower  of  sparks  flew. 

As  the  hours  wore  on  and  she  still  succeeded  in  keep- 
ing harm  away  she  sat  in  almost  breathless  silence,  with 
her  calash  thrown  back  from  over  her  ears  that  they  might 
be  free  to  catch  the  first  hint  of  approaching  danger.  She 
was  thinking  how  brave  she  had  been  and  was  looking 
for  daylight  to  appear,  when  a  sound  rang  through  the 
woods.  She  sprang  to  her  feet,  loosing  her  grasp  on  the 
stirrups,  and  was  losing  control  of  her  horse,  who  whin- 
nied so  loudly  he  would  have  betrayed  their  whereabouts 
had  Indians  been  on  their  track.  Again  she  listened,  and 
again  she  heard  her  name  called;  then  she  recovered  her 
wits,  and  realized  with  a  thankful  feeling  that  search  was 
being  made  for  her  and  that  a  friend  was  near.  Soon  the 
young  hunter  was  there  saddling  her  horse,  when  they 
mounted  and  rode  out  of  the  woods  into  daylight. 

Patty  had  been  plucky  while  danger  lasted;  but  now 
that  it  was  over  she  broke  down  completely. 

As  they  rode  farther  from  her  camping  ground  she 
found  herself  telling  this  new  friend  of  her  lonely  life  and 
its  troubles.  Her  mother  had  died  on  the  Holland  Pur- 
chase, leaving  her,  when  only  twelve  years  old,  with  the 
cares  of  the  cabin  and  three  young  brothers.  After  a 

15 


time  her  father  brought  a  new  mother  for  her  to  love  and 
to  be  mistress  of  the  home,  and  at  first  she  was  greatly 
pleased.  But  Patty  was  soon  turned  out  and  put  to  serv- 
ice, where  there  was  much  hard  work  and  little  pay ;  and, 
worse  than  all,  her  father  claimed  her  wages.  She  re- 
solved to  run  away  from  bondage  when  eighteen,  and  gain 
her  liberty.  She  had  walked  long  distances  and  endured 
much  privation,  to  find  a  home  at  last  among  friends  in 
this  tavern.  Her  heart  was  full  of  hoarded  trouble,  and 
she  ended  in  a  flood  of  tears. 

Rufus  had  a  face  so  kind  that  it  seemed  a  face  to 
trust  under  any  circumstances,  and  Patty  was  sure  she 
saw  a  teardrop  roll  down  while  he  listened  to  her  sad  story. 
When  he  lifted  her  from  the  saddle  at  her  own  door  he 
left  a  kiss  of  sympathy  on  her  cheek,  which  was  still  wet ; 
the  first  kiss,  Patty  decided,  that  she  had  had  since  her 
own  mother  died  so  many  years  ago. 


16 


PATTY'S  HOME. 

CHAPTER  III. 

Rufus  still  kept  up  an  appearance  of  interest  in  the 
hunt,  and  worked  away  at  powder  horns,  boiling  the  rough 
horns  of  the  cow  and  scraping  them  with  pieces  of  broken 
glass  to  make  them  clear  and  smooth.  Then  he  twisted 
and  curved  them  while  hot,  that  they  might  fit  his  form 
closely  when  fastened  to  his  belt  in  front,  and  be  out  of 
the  way  when  he  was  rushing  through  thickets  after  game. 
He  filled  his  bullet-bag  with  bullets,  stuffing  in  a  great 
wad  of  tow;  and  he  made  himself  moccasins  of  deerskin, 
lining  them  with  wool,  because  Kurler  Bow,  the  old  Indian 
medicine  man,  had  told  him  that  deerskin,  being  porous, 
would  keep  his  feet  damp  and  cold.  Kurler  Bow  had 
often  befriended  him  with  much  useful  advice. 

The  young  hunter  seemed  to  be  getting  ready  for  a 
long  chase:  yet  he  seldom  got  further  from  home  than 
about  half-way  up  the  mountain  side,  where  he  might 
be  seen  pacing  off  the  ground  and  sticking  stakes,  ap- 
parently locating  claim  to  the  best  part  of  the  land.  It 
all  was  very  mysterious  to  his  friends;  and  when  he  re- 
turned at  night  he  would  not  have  even  so  much  as  a 
squirrel  to  season  a  stew  for  the  evening  meal. 

The  truth  was,  when  he  was  forced  to  admit  it,  Rufus 
was  deeply  in  love  with  the  homeless  girl,  and  he  was  fast 
losing  his  interest  in  the  hunting  grounds  and  trying  to 

17 


plan  some  way  for  a  cabin  where  she  could  be  her  own 
mistress.  He  knew  well  enough,  though,  that  his  mother 
would  scorn  his  choice.  She  would  choose  for  him  an 
up-town  wife,  instead  of  Patty  Jennings.  Patty  had  no 
royal  blood  in  her  veins,  as  his  mother  had ;  she  was  only 
a  servant  girl. 

Mother  Corey  had  rocked  the  cradle  for  her  eight 
sons,  and  with  tender  care  had  guarded  them  through 
many  troublesome  years,  trying  to  instill  into  their  minds 
lessons  of  wisdom  and  justice.  She  had  each  year  put  her 
own  hand  to  the  wheel  and  worked  up  both  fleece  and  flax 
to  clothe  these  sons  in  comfort.  Nothing  that  she  could 
do  seemed  too  great  a  sacrifice  for  her  mother-love  to 
make  for  her  boys;  but  she  saw  now  how  easy  a  matter 
it  would  be  for  them  to  transfer  their  affections  to  some 
other  woman. 

When  Kurler  Bow  came  riding  out  into  civilization 
he  called  to  see  what  had  become  of  the  young  hunter 
they  had  missed  from  their  hunting-grounds.  He  was  a 
fine  rider,  living  almost  wholly  in  the  saddle,  often  eating 
his  simple  meal  of  nuts  and  acorns  while  on  his  horse.  He 
told  them  that  when  he  was  loosened  from  the  papoose- 
board  he  had  been  put  into  the  saddle,  which  had  been  his 
home  ever  since,  although  he  sometimes  slept  at  night  in 
the  trunk  of  a  hollow  tree.  He  had  brought  a  present  of 
a  quarter  of  fresh  venison  strapped  across  his  horse;  but 
they  knew  he  wanted  to  trade  it  for  johnny-cake,  the 
white  man's  bread.  Rufus  was  greatly  pleased  to  see  him, 
and  while  he  treated  him  to  some  of  the  dainties  he  knew 
the  Indian  liked  so  well,  he  inquired  after  his  tribe,  and 

18 


especially  after  Mary  Jameson,  the  "White  Squaw"  who, 
stolen  when  young  by  them,  had  lived  with  her  captors 
so  many  years  that  her  interests  had  become  one  with 
theirs.  Rufus  always  stopped  to  chat  awhile  with  her 
when  out  in  her  country. 

The  family  finally  decided  to  give  Rufus  the  hillside 
farm  and  his  choice  of  a  location  where  it  would  be  most 
accessible  to  the  town,  including  the  spring  of  never-fail- 
ing clear  cold  water,  with  several  acres  of  tableland  for 
a  building  place.  This  was  scattered  over  with  fine  sugar 
maples,  which  might  be  useful  in  springtime  by  tapping 
them  and  making  molasses,  as  the  Indians  had  done  be- 
fore them.  Stones  covered  the  ground  everywhere,  but 
Rufus  said  these  could  easily  be  picked  up  at  odd  spells 
and  thrown  into  a  wall,  which  would  be  a  much  more  dur- 
able line  fence  than  rails  between  them  and  the  pastures. 

In  the  course  of  time  a  little  cabin  began  to  assume 
form,  with  tall  mountain  pines  for  a  background,  and  in 
front  the  maple  grove,  which  seemed  to  help  keep  the 
cabin  from  sliding  off  the  hillside  into  the  river  below. 

This  was  to  be  Patty's  home. 

She  had  no  friends  to  object  to  her  choice  of  a  hus- 
band and  no  great  preparations  to  make  for  her  marriage. 
The  knot  was  tied  in  Mother  Corey's  spare  room,  and  the 
young  couple  took  their  wedding  journey  up  the  moun- 
tain by  the  old  wood  road,  turning  the  notch  when  about 
half  way  up,  to  reach  their  destination. 

The  cabin  had  one  large  room  for  all  purposes.  In 
one  end  was  an  immense  fireplace,  with  crane  and  tram- 
mels and  plenty  of  pothooks,  all  ready  to  hang  on  the 

21 


kettle  and  make  tea  for  their  wedding  supper.  The  attic, 
which  was  reached  by  a  ladder  at  one  side  of  the  great 
chimney,  would  have  to  be  their  guest  chamber.  The 
doors  were  of  loose  boards,  fastened  at  top  and  bottom  to 
a  cross-piece  of  plank,  and  they  were  hung  on  wooden 
hinges  and  secured  with  a  wooden  latch  resembling  a 
modern  carving  knife.  To  this  was  attached  a  stout 
leather  string  through  a  small  aperture  in  the  shutter; 
and  the  string  was  left  to  hang  invitingly  outside,  indi- 
cating hospitality.  When  Patty  wished  her  door  fastened 
she  could  pull  in  the  string,  and  feel  as  safe  as  a  mouse  in 
the  milk.  A  lean-to  at  the  back  of  the  house  made  pantry 
and  woodshed,  which  opened  towards  the  hill;  while  the 
view  from  the  front  was  fine,  looking  down  upon  the  little 
town  nestled  between  two  mountains. 

The  young  couple  began  housekeeping  with  only  the 
bare  necessities  of  life.  They  had  a  new  milch  cow  in  the 
stall  and  a  pig  in  the  pen,  a  few  chickens  on  the  roost,  and 
ducks  and  geese  went  sailing  on  the  little  pond  which  Rufus 
had  cleared  out  below  the  spring.  They  were  to  keep 
sheep  on  shares  for  half  the  wool  and  half  the  increase; 
and  Patty  was  delighted  to  find  among  the  flock  one  black 
sheep,  for  now  she  could  mix  the  black  fleece  with  the 
white  and  have  ready-colored  stocking  yarn. 

Rufus  was  not  considered  much  of  a  carpenter,  but 
he  made  a  washbench,  and  put  up  shelves  for  the  blue 
dishes  and  pewter  platters,  and  felt  sure  he  had  done  a 
very  satisfactory  job  for  the  house.  Then  he  stole  away 
to  the  meadow  and  brought  back  Patty  a  huge  boquet  of 
lillies.  She  was  puzzled  to  know  what  to  do  with  them, 

22 


but  she  decided  on  putting  them  in  the  new  vinegar  jug, 
which  was  still  empty.  This  would  hold  plenty  of  water 
for  the  long  stems  to  drink,  while  the  great  branching 
tops  so  loaded  with  gorgeous  flowers  could  have  ample 
chance  to  droop  and  spread  themselves  on  all  sides,  until 
the  jug  was  lost  to  sight.  This  was  her  wedding  present, 
and  it  made  a  fine  show  on  the  new  shelf  beside  the  blue 
dishes. 

The  happy  pair  were  on  the  sunny  side  of  the  great 
hill,  and  it  was  spring-time,  when  all  nature  was  awaken- 
ing to  fresh  life.  The  maple  leaves  were  bursting  into 
form,  the  cowslips  in  the  duck  pond  were  ready  for  greens, 
wild  flowers  were  blooming  everywhere  and  wasting  their 
fragrance  on  the  mountain  air.  Birds  were  singing  in  the 
sugar  trees;  owls  hooted  in  the  tall  pines  farther  back; 
frogs  leaped  and  croaked  about  the  edges  of  the  pond — all 
seemed  to  unite  in  a  grand  serenade  to  the  new-comers. 

They  soon  cleared  off  a  garden  spot  and  put  a  five- 
rail  fence  around  it,  with  bars  to  let  down  so  that  they 
might  go  in  and  out  comfortably ;  and  it  was  not  long  be- 
fore sunflowers  and  hollyhocks  shot  above  the  five-rail 
fence,  and  Patty  wondered  if  the  town  folks  could  not  see 
their  improvements. 


GETTING  READY  FOR  COLD  WEATHER. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Patty  took  her  knitting  one  day  and  skipped  across 
the  fields  to  Neighbor  Whipple's,  to  ask  Aunt  Jemima  how 
to  make  soap.  Her  education  in  this  important  part  of 
household  duties  had  been  neglected.  The  minute  she 
stepped  inside  the  door  she  was  sure  Aunt  Jemima  must 
know  all  about  it,  and  she  tiptoed  carefully  to  not  leave  her 
mark.  There  was  a  delightful  smell  of  fresh  scrubbing, 
the  floor  was  as  white  as  the  table,  and  every  wooden  piece 
of  furniture  was  scoured  as  bright  as  soap  and  sand  could 
make  it.  The  loom  might  be  excepted,  for  Aunt  Jemima 
was  drawing  in  a  web. 

Mrs.  Whipple  clambered  out  from  the  great  clumsy 
frame  and  invited  Patty  into  the  best  room ;  but  she  caught 
up  a  remnant  of  gingham  and  her  needle  and  thimble  as  she 
went,  so  that  she  might  be  busy.  She  could  not  afford  to 
be  idle  a  minute.  She  stopped,  too,  to  look  out  at  Tildy 
and  Amy,  who  had  the  baby  in  his  cradle  under  the  shade 
trees.  The  little  fellow  was  giggling  and  crowing  in  great 
glee  at  their  pranks. 

The  remnant,  Aunt  Jemima  explained,  was  to  make 
one  of  the  small  girls  an  apron.  She  tore  down  slits  for 
the  arms  and  slanted  off  the  shoulders,  and  hollowed  out 
the  front  of  the  neck  and  the  arm  slits,  and  the  apron  was 
cut.  By  the  time  she  had  given  the  directions  for  making 

25 


soap  it  would  be  hemmed,  and  a  drawstring  of  tape  run  in 
the  neck,  and  then  it  would  be  ready  for  Tildy,  or  any  half- 
grown  girl.  The  fit  all  lay  in  the  drawstring. 

It  seemed  that  Mary  and  Martha  kept  the  house  and 
did  the  scrubbing;  and  every  Friday  George  Washington 
and  Andrew  Jackson  pulverized  the  sand,  the  same  meas- 
ure full.  That  and  soap,  and  plenty  of  elbow  grease,  did 
the  work. 

The  first  and  most  important  thing  in  making  soap, 
Aunt  Jemima  said,  was  to  set  up  a  leach  barrel  and  have 
it  filled  with  the  best  hardwood  ashes,  with  sufficient  water 
to  leach  through  until  the  lye  was  strong  enough  to  bear 
up  an  egg.  Then  a  fire  was  made  outside  and  a  great 
kettle  hung  over,  and  all  the  grease  that  had  been  saved 
since  killing-time  was  put  into  it,  with  the  lye,  to  boil.  As 
soon  as  every  bit  of  rind  and  gristle  and  bone  was  eaten  up, 
the  whole  mess  would  turn  to  beautiful  thick  soap,  as  sweet 
and  clean  as  maple  sugar.  When  cold  there  ought  to  be 
a  barrelf ul,  to  use  freely.  With  her  family,  she  added,  that, 
with  a  bar  of  castile  to  wash  the  babies,  would  last  a  year. 

Patty  thought  these  directions  were  very  simple,  and 
that  she  understood  them  perfectly.  Not  long  afterward 
sh£  tried  Aunt  Jemima's  rule,  but  the  best  she  could  do 
her  soap  would  come  and  go.  It  would  drop  from  the  big 
wooden  paddle  thick  and  ropy,  but  the  next  day  it  was  thin 
and  looked  like  lye  and  grease  again. 

By  this  time  summer  had  passed  and  autumn  had 
begun  to  touch  as  with  a  painter's  brush  the  maple  leaves, 
turning  them  golden.  The  squash  and  the  cucumber  vines, 
and  the  sunflowers  and  hollyhocks  that  had  shot  up  so  high 

26 


above  the  five-rail  fence  were  looking  sickly.     They  had 
done  their  duty  and  were  dying  with  the  season. 

The  geese  had  twice  been  stripped  of  their  feathers, 
and  Patty  said  she  must  have  one  more  picking  before  cold 
weather.  So  one  night  she  drove  them  into  a  pen  that  had 
been  made  for  the  purpose ;  and  early  the  next  morning  she 
appeared,  thoroughly  equipped  for  a  hard  day's  work.  She 
caught  the  nearest  goose  readily,  and  without  regard  for 
the  poor  thing's  squawking  she  thrust  its  head  under  her 
left  arm,  grasping  both  its  feet  firmly  in  her  left  hand ;  and 
then  with  a  sudden  jerk  she  began  pulling  its  feathers, 
until  soon  the  frightened  fowl  was  stripped  of  all  but  its 
coarser  quills  in  wings  and  tail.  And  even  a  few  of  these 
were  pulled,  to  make  pens  for  writing.  But  when  it  came 
the  old  gander's  turn  he  was  angry  at  the  downright  out- 
rage on  his  flock,  and  set  up  a  terrible  fuss.  He  not  only 
squawked  and  squirmed,  but  he  bit  Patty's  arms  until  they 
were  black  and  blue  and  felt  sore.  She  was  at  her  wit's 
end,  until  she  ran  to  the  house  and  brought  out  her  night- 
cap, which  she  tied  tightly  over  the  angry  fellow's  head; 
and  then  she  fell  to  work  at  him  with  nervous  haste,  and 
never  left  a  ripe  feather  in  his  body.  When  Patty  com- 
plained to  her  husband  that  evening  of  a  hard  day's  work 
he  laughed,  and  said  he  thought  it  must  have  been  harder 
on  the  goose. 

Tired  as  she  was,  Patty  sat  up  that  night  and  added 
those  feathers  to  her  bed.  When  they  were  all  in  and  she 
had  sewed  together  the  opening,  she  beat  them  up  until  it 
seemed  that  every  feather  must  stand  on  end,  and  then  she 
spread  the  covering,  thin,  to  be  sure,  over  the  straw  bed 

27 


which  the  generous  landlord  of  the  little  tavern  had  given 
her  (all  but  the  tick)  as  his  contribution  toward  her  setting- 
out.  Rufus  and  Patty  thought  they  realized  a  great  differ- 
ence in  their  bed  after  that;  but  several  times  during  the 
first  night  they  were  awakened  by  the  squawking  of  the 
geese,  who  missed  their  downy  covering  and  suffered  with 
the  cold. 

Rufus  had  now  begun  cutting  his  yearly  supply  of 
wood,  to  have  it  ready  to  haul  in  jags  on  the  first  snow. 
Then  he  would  cut  it  in  fire  lengths  at  odd  spells.  The 
pine  was  to  be  split  fine  and  stored  in  the  shed  for 
kindlings ;  but  fire  usually  could  be  kept  over,  by  covering 
hardwood  coals  with  ashes.  In  case  it  should  accidentally 
be  lost  it  could  be  started  again  by  the  use  of  a  tinderbox 
and  a  piece  of  punk  from  the  rotten  heart  of  a  beech  tree, 
peeled  in  velvety  cushions;  but  to  let  the  fire  go  out  was 
considered  a  great  calamity.  When  cold  weather  at  last 
made  an  appearance  the  family  felt  almost  independent  of 
the  market  below,  with  their  pork  salted  down,  and  a  tub 
of  butter  set  aside,  and  kraut  and  cider-apple-sauce  and 
apple  butter  and  pickles  for  a  relish. 

The  winter  seemed  unusually  long  and  severe,  espe- 
cially the  latter  part.  For  more  than  three  months  they  had 
not  seen  bare  ground.  Sheep  fared  badly.  The  spring 
lambs  came  too  early,  and  several  times  Rufus  would  find 
among  the  flock  a  half -frozen  one,  which  had  come  in  a 
storm  during  the  night  and  which  he  must  bring  to  the 
house  for  Patty  to  nurse  it  to  life.  As  soon  as  possible 
she  would  get  ready  warm  milk  with  a  bit  of  red  pepper 
in  it;  and  prying  open  the  lamb's  jaws  she  would  force  the 

28 


milk  down,  then  wrap  the  little  creature  in  warm  flannels 
and  lay  the  bundle  on  the  hearth  to  thaw  out. 

But  at  length,  after  long  waiting,  the  bright  sun  shone 
on  the  snow  and  melted  it  suddenly,  and  it  ran  off  in  rills 
and  emptied  into  the  river  below,  helping  to  swell  the 
stream  to  overflow  its  banks  and  make  a  spring  freshet. 
Then  these  same  lambs  came  out  in  a  warm  and  shaggy 
fleece,  to  frisk  and  play  in  the  sunlight;  and  they  looked 
quite  unlike  the  bony  frames  on  stilts  that,  earlier,  had  been 
nursed  back  to  life  in  the  chimney  corner. 


29 


THE  UNEXPECTED  HAPPENS. 


CHAPTER  V. 

After  the  first  year  of  getting  started  in  housekeeping, 
and  hard  work  in  bringing  their  poor-farm  under  cultiva- 
tion, the  family  felt  quite  settled  for  a  happy  life  on  the  hill- 
side. To  be  sure,  their  plans  had  not  all  been  carried 
out,  and  the  stone  wall  had  not  grown  to  make  any  great 
show ;  but  they  looked  to  the  future  with  courage  and  the 
hope  that  in  time  they  should  be  able  to  conquer  all  ob- 
stacles and  make  the  farm  profitable. 

Patty  was  out  one  morning  bright  and  early,  busy 
with  the  chores  and  singing  at  the  top  of  her  voice,  while 
all  the  birds  in  the  branches  of  the  maple  trees  stopped 
their  songs  and  seemed  listening.  Even  the  fractious 
heifer  recognized  the  milkmaid  and  appeared  more  gentle ; 
and  Ruf us  listened,  too ;  it  was  cheerful. 

But  of  a  sudden  the  song  ended,  and  Rufus  rushed  out 
fearing  the  heifer  had  upset  the  pail  and  spilled  the  milk. 
Everything  was  right  side  up,  and  Patty  was  only  gazing 
off  towards  a  stranger  coming  up  the  hill,  and  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  cabin.  She  wondered  who  he  could  be,  and 
where  he  could  be  going,  and  what  in  the  world  he  was 
after  up  there  so  early. 

Rufus  said  he  looked  and  walked  like  Jerry  Ketchum. 
He  must  be  coming  there,  of  course — where  else  could  he 
be  going  ?  But  what  he  was  after  was  more  than  he  could 


tell,  unless  he  had  lost  his  fire  and  was  coming  for  coals 
to  start  another.    Patty  smiled,  but  still  wondered. 

It  was  Jerry,  and  when  he  came  up  he  was  very  flat- 
tering about  the  improvements  they  had  made  on  the  hill 
in  such  a  short  time.  Then  he  asked  Rufus  if  he  would  not 
step  outside  and  sit  on  the  woodpile,  and  talk  business. 
Patty  was  suspicious  that  some  mischief  was  brewing. 
Jerry  would  not  be  up  there  so  early  in  the  morning  if  he 
had  not  some  axe  to  grind ;  and  she  kept  an  eye  on  the  men 
sitting  there  talking  and  chewing  and  spitting  together, 
whittling  every  small  stick  within  reach  into  kindlings. 

Finally  Patty  saw  that  her  husband  was  beginning  to 
be  uneasy.  It  was  getting  towards  noon,  and  she  wondered 
if  Jerry  was  going  to  stay  to  dinner.  She  felt  as  though 
she  should  fly  all  to  pieces  if  the  rascal  did  not  leave  soon. 

Suddenly  little  Hilda,  the  new  baby  in  the  cradle,  be- 
gan to  try  the  strength  of  her  lungs  by  crying.  At  this 
unexpected  sound  Jerry  seemed  surprised  and  stopped  talk- 
ing, and  then  he  evidently  forgot  where  he  had  left  off. 
Plainly  he  had  not  heard  the  latest  news  from  the  hill. 

Soon,  as  it  appeared  that  everything  had  been  said 
that  Jerry  could  think  of  to  gain  some  object,  the  two  men 
rose  from  the  woodpile  and  adjourned  to  the  house.  When 
they  came  in  Rufus  commenced  to  search  for  the  pen  he  had 
made  a  few  weeks  before,  from  one  of  the  quills  Patty  had 
pulled  out  when  she  picked  the  old  gander.  It  was  poor, 
owing  to  the  dull  blade  of  his  jack-knife,  but  he  had  made 
it  do  to  record  little  Hilda's  birth  in  the  family  bible;  and 
then  he  must  have  thrown  it  away,  thinking  he  should 
never  need  it  again. 

32 


Patty  knew  all  the  time  where  it  was,  but  she  saw  that 
jerry  was  trying  to  pull  the  wool  over  her  eyes,  as  well  as 
over  her  husband's;  and  he  said  all  sorts  of  nice  things 
about  the  new  baby. 

Rufus  was  dreadfully  confused,  and  made  bad  work 
backing  the  paper  to  which  Jerry  had  urged  that  he  should 
put  his  name.  He  said  that  the  pen  was  poor  and  the  ink 
pale,  and  that  his  hand  trembled ;  and  he  came  near  putting 
down  Hilda's  name  instead  of  his  own. 

When  Jerry  had  gone  Rufus  told  Patty  all  that  he  had 
done;  how  he  had  been  persuaded  to  sign  a  note  and  go 
security  for  five  hundred  dollars,  to  help  start  a  flourishing 
business  in  the  old  brick-yard.  There  seemed  a  good  open- 
ing; and  if  Jerry  should  be  successful,  he  said,  no  doubt  all 
would  be  right. 

Patty  sighed.  What  might  be  the  consequences  if 
Jerry  did  not  prosper  ? 

Five  hundred  dollars !  She  repeated  it  over  and  over 
again.  It  was  a  big  sum  of  money  for  them  to  lose,  just 
when  they  were  getting  started  and  had  so  little  to  help 
themselves.  How  could  they  ever  raise  it,  if  it  came  to  the 
worst?  The  poor  farm  could  not  be  expected  to  do  it. 

She  took  the  news  very  much  to  heart.  A  dark  cloud 
which  threatened  danger  was  gathering  over  their  humble 
cabin. 

Rufus  could  not  set  himself  to  work  all  that  day.  He 
was  afraid  Patty  would  never  sing  again.  He  looked  in 
the  cradle  at  Patty's  baby,  sleeping  so  sweetly  and  un- 
conscious of  any  trouble.  Jerry  had  said  that  the  child 
looked  for  all  the  world  like  her  mother.  He  did  not  see 

33 


how  Jerry  could  tell;  he  never  could  tell  one  baby  from 
another.  They  all  looked  alike  to  him.  He  wondered  if 
Jerry  could  be  believed  when  he  told  the  truth ;  but  a  father 
must  learn  to  know  his  own  children.  Just  then  Hilda 
began  to  stretch  and  squirm  and  crowd  her  little  fist  into 
her  mouth,  and  seemed  nearly  starved.  Rufus  wondered 
if  it  could  be  that  Patty  was  so  overcome  with  grief  that 
she  had  forgotten  to  feed  her  baby;  and  then  he  went  out 
quickly  and  began  picking  up  stones  and  throwing  them 
into  the  unfinished  stone  wall.  King  Solomon  said,  "He 
that  is  surety  for  a  stranger  shall  smart  for  it,  and  he  that 
hateth  suretyship  is  sure." 

In  less  than  one  year  from  the  date  of  that  note  Jerry 
had  failed  in  business,  and  rumor  said  that  he  had  left  for 
parts  unknown;  and  his  surety  would  be  holden  for  his 
debt.  It  was  just  what  Patty  had  said  would  happen.  She 
could  not  prove  it,  but  what  she  knew  she  knew;  and  she 
was  right. 

Rufus  went  to  the  brickyard  and  offered  to  pay  the 
debt  by  hard  days'  work.  There  were  three  hundred  and 
sixty-five  days  in  a  year;  and  counting  out  Sundays,  and 
elections,  and  general  training,  and  Independence  day,  and 
some  days  that  it  might  be  too  stormy  to  work,  it  would 
take,  the  best  he  could  do,  over  one  year  to  make  the  whole 
payment.  And  during  that  time  the  farm  must  be 
neglected  and  bring  very  little  income  for  the  family  to 
live  on. 

The  next  Monday  morning  Patty  put  up  a  luncheon 
in  a  bright  new  dinner-pail,  and  her  husband  went  down 

34 


the  hill  to  begin  work.    Like  the  children  of  Israel,  he  was 
"in  bondage  in  mortar  and  brick". 

As  Patty  watched  him  out  of  sight,  leaving  her  alone 
with  the  cares  of  the  poor-farm,  life  grew  dark  and  cheer- 
less. Chills  came  creeping  over  her  while  she  wiped  the 
moisture  from  her  face.  Her  world  had  changed.  She 
grew  dizzy  and  faint,  and  staggered  to  the  door  for  a 
breath  of  air.  Could  she  be  dying,  and  not  a  soul  near  with 
whom  to  leave  a  message,  or  her  last  will  about  Hilda? 
It  would  be  hard  on  Rufus  to  be  left  with  the  housework 
and  a  baby  on  his  hands,  and  such  an  awful  debt  to  pay  by 
his  day's  work.  He  would  be  obliged  to  be  looking  around 
for  his  second  wife,  to  keep  the  cabin  and  be  a  stepmother 
to  her  child. 

Patty  came  out  of  her  nervous  fit  of  despondency,  and 
saved  her  kind  husband  from  any  such  unnecessary 
trouble;  and  then,  going  over  to  the  little  wooden  churn 
on  the  hearth,  waiting  her  motion  with  the  dasher  to  make 
the  butter  fly,  she  hummed  to  herself : 

"Contented    I   am,   contented   I'll   be, 

There  are  more  that  live  worse 
Than  live  better  than  me; 

Come  butter,  come." 


35 


THE  TWIN  BABIES. 

CHAPTER  VI. 

The  Corey  family  were  very  thankful  when  the  big 
debt  was  paid  and  they  were  free  once  more  to  give  atten- 
tion to  the  poor  farm.  Fortune  seemed  in  their  favor 
when  the  ewes  brought  twins  to  the  pastures.  It  would 
increase  their  stock  and  add  value  to  the  farm.  But  when 
Mrs.  Corey  brought  twin  boy  babies  to  the  cabin  it  was 
quite  a  different  matter.  This  meant  everlasting  trouble 
and  a  great  responsibility  to  that  mother.  She  did  not 
want  boys,  and  surely  not  two  at  a  time.  She  would  not 
have  taken  them  as  a  gift,  only  that  she  must. 

Children  were  looked  upon  as  the  poor  man's  blessing 
in  those  days;  but  when  they  accumulated  so  amazingly 
fast  they  did  seem  the  poor  woman's  burden.  At  any  rate, 
that  was  what  Patty  thought,  when  she  found  herself  the 
mother  of  three  helpless  little  ones. 

If  she  had  been  rich  she  could  have  kept  a  servant  for 
the  house  and  a  nurse  for  each  child,  which  would  lighten 
her  task;  but,  like  most  pioneer  women  of  her  day,  she  was 
poor  and  must  shoulder  her  burdens  and  make  her  way 
through  life  as  best  she  could.  When  one  baby  cried  all 
three  would  set  in  and  cry,  and  sometimes  Patty  would 
cry,  too. 

Hilda  was  broken-hearted  at  sight  of  these  boys 
nestling  in  her  mother's  arms,  while  she,  who  had  been  the 

37 


idol  of  the  house,  was  turned  off  and  neglected.  She  cried 
and  grew  thin  and  pale,  and  her  mother  was  sure  the  child 
would  die  of  grief.  She  consulted  the  doctor;  but  he 
seemed  to  think  there  was  no  immediate  danger.  He  said 
she  might  be  cutting  her  eye-teeth  and  would  pull  through 
all  right;  and  he  left  soothing  syrups  and  made  frequent 
visits  to  see  how  she  was  getting  along,  while  he  tried  a 
new  medicine  each  time — but  all  did  no  good.  The  little 
girl  still  fretted  and  cried,  and  Patty  believed  she  was 
growing  worse,  so  they  called  in  counsel. 

The  doctor  said  the  boys  were  growing  like  weeds 
and  ought  to  have  names.  Rufus  offered  to  name  one 
Welcome  if  Patty  wanted  to  call  the  other  Unwelcome. 

She  decided  to  try  the  experiment  of  getting  all  the 
babies  to  sleep  at  once,  which  would  be  a  great  convenience. 
She  drew  the  armchair  close  beside  the  bed  and  took  the 
lightest  boy  on  her  right  arm,  next  the  bed,  and  the  heavy 
one  on  her  left  arm;  and  across  her  lap  she  laid  the  jealous 
little  Hilda,  holding  a  great  rag  doll  with  painted  face  and 
curly  hair  of  the  black  sheep's  wool.  Then  came  the  effort 
of  singing  and  trotting  and  nursing  and  caressing,  until 
they  began  dropping  off  to  sleep ;  when  she  threw  them  one 
by  one  on  the  bed,  the  lightest  first  with  her  right  arm,  and 
with  both  arms  she  managed  to  toss  on  the  heavy  boy; 
while,  with  a  few  words  of  pity  over  the  unconscious  forms 
in  her  lap,  she  laid  them  gently  down  in  their  cradle  bed, 
and  fairly  flew  about  her  neglected  work.  The  sun  was 
swiftly  creeping  towards  the  noon-mark,  and  she  must 
bring  up  the  fire,  and  bake  bread,  and  get  churning  done 
and  dinner  on  the  table  for  her  hungry  husband.  She  did 

38 


wish  that  for  once  every  child  would  sleep  till  all  was  done. 

A  little  bird  of  the  air  flew  over  with  news,  and  Patty 
looked  out  and  there  came  Kurler  Bow  riding  up  the  hill 
as  straight  as  a  dart.  A  wild  turkey  was  flapping  from  his 
saddle,  intended,  without  doubt,  as  a  present  for  the  young 
hunter ;  but  all  the  same,  he  would  want  its  weight  in  good 
things  to  eat,  and  she  could  not  think  of  a  thing  in  the 
house  to  give  him.  Yet  she  dared  not  offend  an  Indian. 
Her  heart  fluttered  and,  as  she  said,  "flew  into  her  mouth." 
Fortunately  the  same  little  bird  of  the  air  must  have  car- 
ried news  to  her  husband,  for  he  came  in  ahead  of  time 
and  ready  to  do  justice  to  a  hearty  meal. 

When  Kurler  Bow  began  to  make  his  presentation 
speech  the  three  babies  began  to  cry,  first  one  and  then 
another. 

Patty  tried  to  hush  them,  for  she  remembered  that 
Indian  children  never  cry ;  and  after  looking  at  her  and  the 
little  ones  until  his  curiosity  was  satisfied,  Kurler  Bow  told 
her  what  she  had  long  been  wishing  to  know — how  the 
squaw  mother  prevents  her  pappoose  from  squalling 
whenever  it  takes  the  notion  to  squall.  He  said  she  clapped 
a  hand  tightly  over  the  baby's  mouth  with  the  first  cry  it 
made,  and  at  the  same  time  held  its  nose  till  it  nearly,  but 
not  quite,  strangled.  Then  she  bravely  repeated  this  treat- 
ment until  the  pappoose  showed  no  signs  of  making  even 
a  whimper  which  would  betray  their  race.  Rufus  told  his 
wife  he  did  wish  she  would  try  the  Indian  cry-baby  cure 
on  those  boys  while  they  were  young,  and  make  them  brave. 
It  would  save  the  family  so  much  annoyance. 


39 


The  medicine-man  gave  them  some  useful  hints  for 
Hilda's  benefit.  He  said  to  throw  away  the  dishes  of 
herbs  steeping  about  the  hearth,  to  clothe  her  body  in  warm 
flannel  garments,  and  when  the  sun  was  well  up  and  the 
air  heated  to  wrap  her  in  woolen  blankets  and  carry  her 
down  the  hill  to  the  river,  there  to  dip  her  thoroughly  for 
three  successive  mornings  and  then  to  skip  three,  continu- 
ing this  for  three  months.  Each  time  she  was  to  be 
wrapped  warmly  and  put  to  bed  for  sweet  sleep. 

Rufus  longed  for  the  healing  influence  of  the  pine 
woods,  where  he  could  take  his  child  and  lay  her  on  a  soft 
and  easy  bed  of  boughs,  wrapped  in  bear  skins,  for  sweet 
sleep.  She  would  soon  be  well,  he  knew  it ;  but  her  mother 
would  scorn  such  a  wild  notion  of  his,  and  he  dared  not  add 
another  sorrow  to  her  troubled  life.  So  he  tried  the  dip- 
ping, but  it  proved  a  hard  task;  and  he  was  always  glad 
when  skipping  times  came  around. 


NEIGHBOR  WHIPPLE'S  HOUSE-RAISING. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Patty  had  finally  settled  down  to  her  new  relations  at 
home  and  was  trying  to  perform  her  motherly  duties  in  a 
business-like  manner,  when  Levi  Whipple  sent  out  invita- 
tions to  his  house-raising,  and  Aunt  Jemima  added  a  special 
invitation  for  Patty  to  come  with  the  children  and  spend 
the  evening. 

This  was  a  great  surprise  to  Patty,  and  she  could  not 
understand  why  Aunt  Jemima  should  invite  her,  with  three 
babies  to  carry,  a  mile  or  more  off  across  the  fields  and 
through  the  woods,  to  get  back  late  at  night.  The  idea 
seemed  impossible. 

Rufus  was  puzzled,  and  scratched  his  head  and  tried 
to  conjure  up  some  way  to  help  out  of  the  difficulty.  All 
the  conveyance  he  owned  was  the  white  steers  and  a  bob- 
sled, and  his  wife  always  seemed  timid  about  riding  behind 
the  steers  and  ashamed  of  the  bobsled.  He  could  put  the 
great  red  cradle  on  the  handsled  and  set  a  boy  in  each  end, 
and  haul  them  over  in  grand  style;  or,  if  Patty  preferred, 
he  could  take  the  cradle  on  his  shoulder,  and  the  motion 
either  way  would  lull  the  babies  to  sleep  just  as  quickly  as 
her  foot  on  the  rocker,  and  then  they  would  have  their  own 
bed  when  they  got  there.  Jemima  Whipple  never  had 
twins,  and  her  cradle  would  hold  only  one  at  a  time.  His 
wife,  however,  objected  to  these  plans,  fearing  the  cradle 

41 


might  upset  coming  home  through  the  dark  woods,  so  late 
at  night.  It  was  evident  she  had  no  babies  to  lose. 

Patty  went  to  bed  with  a  heavy  burden  on  her  mind. 

When  she  fell  asleep  she  dreamed  that  she  was  going 
to  the  raising,  and  had  begun  to  get  ready.  She  found  her 
cinnamon-brown  merino,  which  had  been  hung  away  in  the 
garret,  and  was  trying  it  on;  but  as  fast  as  she  pulled  it 
together  the  hooks  would  fly  off  and  it  would  fly  open.  She 
tried  to  dress  her  feet,  but  every  time  the  heel  of  her  stock- 
ing would  come  on  top,  and  the  right  shoe  would  be  on  the 
wrong  foot.  It  seemed  out  of  the  question  to  get  ready; 
and  she  awoke  with  her  mind  made  up  to  stay  at  home  in 
her  chimney-corner  until  the  babies  should  be  grown. 

When  she  fell  asleep  once  more  her  boys  were  already 
half-grown  youngsters,  and  were  on  handsleds  going  at 
lightning  speed  on  snow  and  ice  down  the  very  steepest 
and  most  dangerous  part  of  the  mountain  side.  They  went 
with  such  force  that  they  were  soon  carried  across  the  old 
wood  road  and  along  to  the  very  brink  of  the  awful  preci- 
pice, and  below  lay  the  mill-dam.  She  was  speechless  and 
motionless,  and  almost  breathless.  She  could  not  rescue 
them;  but  as  soon  as  she  could  get  control  of  her  organs 
she  gave  a  scream  of  terror  which  alarmed  the  quiet 
house — and  she  was  glad  to  find  herself  awake,  with  a  boy 
on  each  arm,  and  that  it  had  been  only  a  dream. 

Rufus  told  her  that  if  her  boys  were  born  to  be  hung 
they  never  would  be  drowned. 

The  next  morning  Patty  cleaned  up  the  tin  lantern 
perforated  with  nail  holes,  and  placed  in  the  socket  a  fresh 
tallow  candle.  Then  she  took  a  few  extra  stitches  in  the 

42 


children's  clothes,  and  let  out  the  underarm  seams  of  her 
wedding  dress.  She  seemed  to  be  getting  ready.  Her  hus- 
band watched  her  sprinkle  flour  over  a  piece  of  cotton 
flannel  and  powder  her  complexion,  then  she  searched  in 
the  garden  for  red  beet  leaves,  which  she  bruised  and 
tinted  her  cheeks  with  the  juice,  to  bring  back  their  natural 
color;  and  with  a  few  extra  crimps  in  her  glossy,  black 
hair  she  looked  about  as  young  and  pretty  as  the  day  she 
was  married.  Finally,  Rufus  took  Hilda,  strapped  on  his 
back  and  fastened  about  like  a  papoose,  and  he  carried  the 
smaller  boy  in  his  arms,  while  Patty  carried  the  heavy  boy 
and  the  lantern ;  and  so  they  started  for  the  raising. 

Aunt  Jemima  welcomed  them  and  kissed  the  babies, 
and  told  Patty  how  glad  she  was  that  she  had  come,  and 
that  her  burdens  would  seem  lighter  as  she  got  used  to 
them,  which  was  very  comforting. 

In  the  evening  they  played  games  and  told  stories,  and 
drank  punch  and  egg-nogg,  until  Patty  began  to  grow 
uneasy  about  getting  home  with  so  many  precious  bundles. 
They  lighted  the  lantern  and  wakened  the  children,  and 
started  off  with  all  three  crying;  but  Patty  told  Aunt 
Jemima  what  a  nice  time  she  had  had,  and  how  she  would 
not  have  missed  it  for  the  world. 

Rufus  rolled  moderately  over  the  logs  and  moved 
slowly  down  the  steep  bank  of  the  gulf,  and  stepped  care- 
fully on  the  slippery  stones  in  the  sulphur  stream ;  and  they 
reached  home  about  midnight.  To  Patty's  surprise  not  one 
of  her  babies  had  met  with  the  slightest  harm. 

After  looking  outside  to  see  if  the  lambs  were  safe  for 
the  night,  she  crept  into  bed,  where  her  husband  was  snor- 

43 


ing  away,  entirely  insensible  to  every  care,  outside  or  in. 
She  closed  her  eyes  and  tried  to  shut  out  thought.  She 
knew  she  needed  sleep;  but  a  thousand  new  ideas  came 
rushing  into  her  mind,  making  sleep  impossible.  She  was 
back  at  neighbor  Whipple's  admiring  the  simple  ornaments 
for  the  white  walls  of  the  new  house;  the  pressed  autumn 
leaves,  and  downy  thistle-balls,  and  the  fans  of  partridge 
feathers  all  pressed  and  tied  with  ribbons.  Then  there 
were  the  barrels  covered  in  buff  chintz  with  modest  sweet- 
briar  roses.  The  sides  were  fulled  around,  but  the  head 
was  plain  and  held  little  willow  baskets  and  trinkets  bought 
of  Indian  peddlers.  Then  Patty's  thoughts  flew  away  to 
the  Holland  Purchase,  when  her  own  mother  kept  the  cabin, 
her  childhood  home,  and  according  to  her  dim  recollections 
she  must  have  been  very  much  like  Aunt  Jemima.  The 
tears  stole  down  her  cheeks  as  she  realized  how  much  she 
had  missed  from  life  by  losing  a  mother's  tender  love  and 
proper  training. 

Her  brain  grew  weary  long  before  daylight  appeared, 
and  she  decided  that  Aunt  Jemima's  tea  must  have  been  too 
strong. 

When  Rufus  awoke  he  complained  of  a  dull,  bad  feel- 
ing in  his  head,  and  he  could  hardly  recollect  how  he  got 
home ;  but  he  was  thankful  that  no  accident  had  happened 
to  the  children,  and  he  gave  all  credit  to  Patty  and  the 
lantern.  ' 


44 


GOING  WEST  TO  LOOK. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

One  cold,  frosty  morning  in  April,  Rufus  Corey  was 
seen  passing  through  the  village  with  his  pack  on  his  back 
and  gun  on  his  shoulder,  going  West  to  look. 

Secret  influences  had  been  working  in  his  mind,  draw- 
ing him  from  his  mountain  poor-farm,  where  he  had  tried 
hard  to  make  a  comfortable  living.  The  hillside  had  been 
drenched  with  rain  and  snow  for  all  time,  carrying  off 
down  the  stream  all  virtue  from  the  soil,  or  depositing  it 
on  the  river  banks  below ;  robbing  him  of  any  great  profit 
from  his  labor,  and  making  him  dissatisfied  with  his  situa- 
tion. Off  West  was  supposed  to  be  a  vast  expanse  of  land 
with  a  fertile  soil  and  unlimited  resources,  and  mines  of 
great  wealth  just  out  of  sight.  These  hidden  treasures 
were  waiting  only  for  the  march  of  civilization  to  explore 
and  bring  them  to  light. 

Newspapers  did  not  circulate  freely  in  those  early 
days;  but  from  best  authority  within  reach  young  Corey 
believed  the  West,  with  such  a  rich  inheritance  and  so  near 
home,  would  be  a  desirable  change ;  and  nothing  would  set 
his  mind  at  rest  but  to  make  a  trip  and  look  for  himself. 
He  made  up  his  mind  the  morning  he  left  home  with  his 
dinner  pail  and  turned  his  back  on  that  mountain,  that  he 
would  sell  out  and  look  for  a  better  location;  and  after  a 
long  time  waiting,  the  merchant  put  him  on  his  feet  by 

45 


buying  the  poor-farm  for  -stock.  It  was  so  tilted  up  against 
the  mountain  and  so  covered  with  stones  that  it  was  uphill 
business  to  try  farming  for  any  profit.  In  time  something 
better  might  turn  up  to  pay  the  merchant  for  this  invest- 
ment. 

A  new  era  began  to  dawn  upon  the  minds  of  the 
people,  making  steam  power  and  electricity  among  the 
wonders  of  the  world.  It  seemed  impossible  to  imagine 
to  what  extent  these  powers  might  be  carried  when  better 
understood  and  controlled  by  human  skill. 

Mother  Corey  was  bending  with  the  weight  of  years 
and  the  many  burdens  of  life,  and  she  was  slow  to  recog- 
nize a  wise  Providence  influencing  her  son's  family  to  leave 
the  mountain-side,  where  they  would  have  been  obstacles 
in  the  way  of  a  great  improvement — a  revolution  which 
was  to  take  place  later  on, — the  coming  of  the  locomotive, 
whistling  and  puffing  in  a  frightful  manner  across  this 
mountain  and  right  through  Patty's  front  yard,  cutting 
in  two  the  old  wood-road  where  the  white  steers  hauled 
their  loads  to  town,  and  the  zig-zag  path  down  the  hill,  a 
nearer  cut  for  the  family.  They  even  took  Patty's  little 
home,  once  so  dear  to  her,  where  she  had  spent  the  honey- 
moon of  her  life  and  where  her  babies  were  born,  for  a 
way-station.  It  was  rumored  and  believed  that  the  mer- 
chant did  get  back  his  money,  with  interest  for  the  same, 
for  the  right  of  way  through  his  land;  and  in  time  this 
road  became  a  great  thoroughfare  for  the  traveling  public. 
But,  fortunately,  Patty  and  the  children  were  out  of  the 
way  of  the  locomotive  some  years  before  the  track  was 
visible.  ...*...  \  .  , 

46 


In  spite  of  Patty's  determination  to  be  brave  and  look 
on  the  bright  side  during  her  husband's  absence,  many 
gloomy  thoughts  would  intrude,  and  she  began  borrowing 
trouble  almost  as  soon  as  he  was  out  of  sight.  There 
seemed  so  many  ways  in  which  he  might  meet  with  acci- 
dent and  lose  his  life,  and  she  never  learn  his  sad  fate, 
which  would  be  to  her  a  living  trouble.  He  might  never 
see  a  familiar  face  the  whole  way;  strangers  might  prove 
unkind.  Then  it  occurred  to  her  that  possibly  he  might 
meet  Jerry  Ketchum,  for  they  say,  "rogues  go  West" ;  and 
that  must  be  where  Jerry  had  gone.  What  if  he  had  amassed 
a  fortune  off  there,  in  some  of  his  speculations,  and  his 
conscience  should  smite  him  for  the  wrongs  done  a  gen- 
erous, kind-hearted  friend,  so  that  he  would  be  inclined 
to  pay  back  the  five  hundred  dollars,  with  interest  ?  That 
would  help  a  powerful  sight  towards  buying  land.  But 
if  Rufus  should  meet  him,  as  poor  as  Job's  turkey,  he  would 
not  hold  any  grudge.  He  never  did  against  any  man. 
Rufus  was  "such  an  honest  soul!"  Patty  said  to  herself. 
She  felt  about  sick.  It  seemed  like  a  rush  of  blood  to  the 
head,  and  she  believed  she  had  better  be  bled.  The  doctor 
came  up  promptly  when  called,  and  tapped  a  vein  in  Patty's 
arm,  and  drew  out  nearly  a  pint  of  bad  blood.  He  assured 
her  that  she  had  done  a  wise  thing,  which  would  tend  to 
keep  her  system  in  running  order  until  her  husband  should 
get  home.  Patty  felt  relieved.  She  had  great  confidence 
in  the  doctor.  Rufus  always  said  there  was  one  bill  he 
never  questioned,  and  that  was  his  doctor's  bill. 


47 


A  TRAVELER  ON  THE  ROAD. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

The  young  prospector  had  made  rapid  strides  over 
the  ground,  with  bright  anticipations  of  some  better  coun- 
try ahead;  and  when  night  overtook  him  he  put  up  at  a 
wayside  inn  or  asked  for  lodging  at  some  little  shanty, 
always  finding  the  pioneer  settlers  kindhearted  and  ready 
to  share  their  last  morsel  with  the  stranger  under  their 
roof.  After  a  cup  of  tea  and  crust  of  bread,  a  bowl  of  mush 
and  milk,  if  that  was  more  convenient,  or  some  very  simple 
fare,  they  chatted  awhile  about  pioneer  life  and  the  pros- 
pects ahead;  and  then  he  crept  into  his  bunk  or  stretched 
himself  out  in  one  corner  on  a  few  quilts,  to  dream  of  the 
West  where  he  could  listen  once  more  to  the  cheerful  music 
of  the  green  old  forests,  hunt  and  enjoy  the  wild,  free  life 
he  used  to  love  so  well  in  his  early  days.  He  often  thought 
of  Patty's  careworn  face  and  faded  cheeks,  and  the  many 
wants  of  his  family.  But  when  daylight  appeared  he  was 
up  fresh  and  rested  for  his  journey,  planning  anew  about 
the  West  and  its  possibilities  in  store  for  him. 

When  he  had  traveled  one  hundred  miles  he  came  to 
an  old  State  road  running  through  Crawford  county,  Penn- 
sylvania. He  took  this  road  and  traveled  fifty  miles  on  it, 
when  he  struck  off  by  John  Brown's  tannery,  to  find  a 
two-hundred  acre  tract  of  wild  land,  offered  cheap. 

The  country  was  new,  thinly  settled  and  heavily  tim- 
bered, and  two  hundred  acres  of  such  wild  land  seemed  a 

49 


big  farm  for  one  man  to  tackle;  but  it  proved  a  grand 
specimen  of  natural  scenery,  beautifully  located  on  two 
of  four  corners,  and  well  watered  by  living  springs  and 
purest  streams.  The  soil  was  rich  and  fertile;  in  fact  it 
seemed  all  that  he  could  ask  or  expect  to  find.  Game  came 
prancing  through  the  woods  unmindful  of  any  fear  or 
danger,  and  thousands  of  voices  greeted  and  charmed  his 
ear,  till  he  was  spellbound.  He  said  the  woods  always 
had  an  exhilarating  effect  on  his  spirits.  He  sat  down 
under  the  shade  of  the  trees,  trying  to  count  the  cost  and 
study  up  his  means  and  ways.  He  decided  if  he  should 
fall  short  in  his  payment,  that  when  his  York  State  friends 
should  come  flocking  West  for  homes,  he  could  divide 
up  this  tract,  and  make  a  settlement,  with  Yankee  traits, 
about  the  Corners. 

Squirrels  were  perched  in  the  topmost  branches  of 
the  hickories  and  butternuts,  holding  the  hard-shelled  nuts 
in  their  claws  while  they  bored  down  into  the  oily  meat 
for  a  most  delicious  morsel;  then  they  dropped  the  shells 
at  his  feet  and  fearlessly  hopped  into  the  neighboring 
branches  to  finish  a  bountiful  meal  on  chestnuts.  Swarms 
of  busy  bees  were  at  work  about  the  decayed  knot  of  a 
tree,  clearing  out  a  rotten  mess  to  make  a  storehouse 
where  they  might  bring  home  sweets  gathered  from  fields 
of  buckwheat  or  wild  flowers,  to  work  into  honey.  The 
air  was  pure  and  spicy,  and  he  did  wish  physicians  would 
say  to  their  sick  and  weak  and  weary — Go  to  the  woods, 
and  breathe  the  life-giving  emanations  from  the  trees, 
and  obey  the  simple  laws  of  nature  and  grow  strong  and 
get  well.  He  had  always  had  these  odd  notions  about  the 
health-giving  influence  of  the  woods. 

50 


When  he  had  secured  proper  title  to  this  land,  and  all 
necessary  business  was  done,  he  started  home,  proud  to 
carry  to  his  friends  such  a  flattering  report  of  his  success 
and  of  the  country  "out  West".  He  had  his  speech  of 
glowing  descriptions  at  his  tongue's  end,  ready  to  deliver 
to  his  wife  the  minute  he  got  inside  his  own  door. 

But  when  he  reached  home  the  latchstring  was  pulled 
in  for  the  night.  Patty  knew  his  familiar  step,  however, 
and  raised  the  latch  and  welcomed  once  more  the  hungry, 
weary  traveler,  who  was  almost  out  of  breath  with  the 
long  day's  tramping  and  the  extra  effort  to  climb  the 
mountain  before  bedtime.  She  raked  open  her  bed  of 
hardwood  coals  which  had  been  carefully  covered,  and 
with  a  splint  from  the  homemade  broom  succeeded  in  light- 
ing a  tallow  candle;  then,  grabbing  the  tongs,  she  picked 
out  a  live  coal  and  dropped  it  into  a  bowl  of  water,  where 
it  boiled  and  spluttered  a  minute,  when  she  fished  out  the 
charred  coal  and  settled  the  drink,  and  gave  it  as  a  medi- 
cine to  refresh  the  weary  man  and  clear  his  throat,  so  that 
he  might  tell  her  about  the  West  while  she  made  the  tea.  - 


THE  FIRST  MOVE. 


CHAPTER   X. 

A  horse  team  with  an  emigrant  wagon  stood  at  the 
door  of  the  little  home  on  the  hillside,  ready  to  load  in  the 
family  and  the  things  that  would  be  needed  on  the  journey 
West.  An  ox-team  was  slowly  moving  off  with  the  house- 
hold goods  and  tools  for  clearing  land.  Three  cows  were 
in  the  procession,  designed  for  family  use. 

Patty  took  a  large  workbag  on  her  arm,  with  a  ball 
of  yarn  and  a  sock  set-up  ready  for  pick-up  work  on  the 
way.  She  carried  an  overgrown  babe,  and  several  little 
children  were  clinging  to  her  skirts  and  hanging  back,  cry- 
ing because  they  were  afraid  of  the  big  woods  off  West 
that  were  so  full  of  bears.  They  could  only  carry  with 
them  the  memory  of  childhood  days,  and  of  the  play- 
grounds where  the  boys  broke  their  wild  horses  and  the 
girls  baked  mud-pies  in  their  little  stone  ovens. 

Aunt  Jemima  came  over  to  say  good-bye,  and  brought 
Patty  one  of  her  partridge  tails,  nicely  pressed  into  a  fan, 
and  tied  with  a  bright  ribbon  bow ;  a  keepsake  and  an  orna- 
ment for  the  new  home.  Rufus  told  her  that  in  his  wood 
partridges  were  as  plenty  as  chickens  in  a  poultry  yard,  but 
their  tails  were  not  tied  with  ribbons. 

The  emigrant  procession  was  late  in  getting  started, 
and  as  it  moved  through  the  village  many  familiar  faces 
appeared  at  the  doors  and  windows,  to  take  a  last  look  and 

53 


wish  good  luck.  The  Mormon  excitement  was  at  its  height 
in  neighboring  towns,  carrying  off  converts  to  the  far  West 
to  form  an  independent  settlement  on  Mormon  principles; 
and  it  was  rumored  that  many  New  England  families  were 
banding  together  and  going  to  some  of  the  Western  States 
to  form  colonies.  But  this  family  was  going  off  single- 
handed  and  alone,  to  battle  with  hardships.  It  seemed  like 
a  leap  in  the  dark,  to  their  friends.  The  small  caravan 
traveled  only  ten  miles  the  first  day,  and  stayed  that  night 
at  Angelica.  The  next  morning  a  drizzling  rain  set  in, 
and  the  entire  week  in  May  proved  rainy,  with  scarcely  a 
day  of  sunshine  the  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles.  Roads 
were  washed  out  and  bridges  broken ;  and  it  was  not  until 
towards  night  of  the  eighth  day  that  they  came  in  sight  of 
the  old  log  school-house  which  was  to  be  their  home. 

This  house  stood  on  one  of  the  four  corners,  with  only 
enough  clearing  around  it  to  let  in  the  building  and  a  huge 
woodpile.  Patty's  courage  almost  failed  her.  The  woods 
looked  dark  and  dreary  and  the  house  forsaken,  with  chink- 
ings  out  between  the  logs,  letting  in  wind  and  dust,  the 
windows  broken  in,  and  glass  and  dirt  covering  the  floor. 
She  was  not  in  condition  to  enjoy  much  of  anything  then 
but  a  good  cup  of  tea  and  a  fire  to  dry  their  damp  clothing. 
She  did  wish  some  kind  neighbor  would  invite  them  home 
to  stay  that  first  night ;  but  she  wished  in  vain.  She  could 
not  even  see  smoke  from  a  chimney  in  any  direction,  and 
Rufus  had  to  go  a  full  mile  for  coals  to  start  a  fire. 

The  fireplace  was  almost  the  only  cheerful  thing,  and 
this  was  immense,  made  of  unhewed  stone  and  reaching 
nearly  across  one  end  of  the  house,  taking  in  great  back- 
logs which  were  rolled  up  on  skids,  with  several  smaller 

54 


logs  in  front.  The  fire  was  built  without  any  sign  of  stint 
or  stinginess.  Wood  was  plenty,  and  burning  seemed  the 
easiest  and  surest  way  of  getting  rid  of  it.  It  was  not 
long  before  the  flames  crackled  and  roared  and  the  new  fire 
heated  up  the  room,  drying  their  damp  clothing  and  mak- 
ing the  place  more  homelike,  and  sending  a  thrill  of  com- 
fort to  all  hearts.  They  cleaned  up  the  broken  glass  and 
rubbish,  and  Patty  laid  clean  chips  over  the  holes  in  the 
floor,  so  that  snakes  should  not  crawl  through  while  they 
slept ;  and  she  set  her  table  on  a  long  painted  chest  for  their 
first  meal,  using  some  of  the  nicest  chips  for  plates.  When 
she  complained  of  not  having  anything  to  eat,  Rufus  sug- 
gested that  she  put  off  supper  until  breakfast  time  and  have 
both  meals  together,  promising  plenty  of  game  from  the 
woods,  which  were  alive  with  squirrels.  Night  drew  a 
dark  curtain  over  the  outside  view  early;  but  the  family 
sat  up  late  to  enjoy  the  cheerful  fire,  and  build  air-castles, 
and  talk  over  much  that  they  planned  to  do  in  the  near 
future.  Already  it  seemed  more  like  home  than  they  had 
dared  to  hope. 

In  the  morning  Patty  looked  out  of  the  broken  win- 
dows and  directly  into  a  neighbor's  girdled  clearing,  across 
the  road  on  the  opposite  corner.  This  settler,  getting  in  a 
hurry  to  raise  a  crop  to  help  support  his  family,  had  cut  a 
girdle  around  each  tree  and  left  them  all  to  bleed  and 
bleach  in  the  sun.  When  the  sap  had  run  out  the  bark 
peeled  off,  leaving  the  trees  bare,  white  and  ghostly,  with 
their  great  limbs  extended  in  every  direction  and  liable  to 
break  and  fall  in  wind  storms.  The  tree  soon  lost  its  firm 
hold  of  the  earth  and  became  brittle,  and  was  apt  to  turn 
up  by  the  roots  as  soon  as  the  ground  was  moistened  by 

57 


rains.  Planting  could  be  done  among  the  trees  and  a  half 
crop  raised,  and  the  virtue  of  the  soil  was  not  lost  by  fire, 
as  was  the  case  in  clearing  the  usual  way.  Patty  said  she 
rather  liked  the  sight  of  these  white  woods. 

Rufus  longed  to  see  the  bright  sun  shining  on  his  own 
woods,  so  that  he  could  show  their  beauty  to  his  wife.  He 
was  proud  of  those  grand  old  oaks,  with  their  green 
branches  woven  in  and  interlocked  with  the  neighboring 
chestnuts;  the  beech  and  the  maple  growing  side  by  side 
and  so  near  to  the  hickory  that  squirrels  were  hopping  from 
branch  to  branch. 

He  shouldered  his  gun  and  started  off  toward  his 
north  boundary  to  commence  clearing  land,  and  perhaps 
to  shoot  some  squirrels  for  dinner,  when  he  saw  just  be- 
fore him  in  the  road  a  great  bear  slowly  plodding  along. 
His  first  thought  was  to  fire  and  kill  the  animal;  but, 
turning  to  the  door,  he  called  to  Patty  to  come  out  and  see 
an  old  settler  that  was  passing  the  house. 

She  rushed  to  the  door  with  a  baby  in  her  arms,  anx- 
ious to  know  what  the  natives  were  like;  but  when  to  her 
surprise  she  saw  this  wild  animal  passing,  she  clasped  her 
baby  tight  and  declared  that  she  never  should  dare  to  let 
one  of  the  children  play  out  of  doors  again.  Rufus  ex- 
plained that  the  bears  had  a  runway  on  his  land,  a  well- 
beaten  path  just  above  the  house  where,  most  likely,  they 
had  traveled  for  years  without  turning  aside  to  do  any 
harm,  and  where  they  would  still  do  so  unless  they  were 
molested. 

After  nearly  two  weeks  of  anxious  watching  and  wait- 
ing the  ox-team  and  cows  were  seen  coming  slowly  over 

58 


Little  Hill,  and  were  welcomed  by  all  the  family.  They 
were  then  turned  out  in  the  chopping  to  browse  on  the 
green  twigs. 

Everything  available  in  housekeeping  was  now  carried 
from  the  wagon  to  the  house  and  arranged  about  the  room 
to  the  best  advantage  possible.  Two  turned-post  bed- 
steads were  set  up  in  the  north  end,  with  a  high  chest  of 
drawers  between,  and  a  trundle  bed  was  run  under  each  of 
the  beds,  to  be  pulled  out  into  the  room  at  night  for  the 
children.  Splint-bottom  chairs  and  a  painted  table  were 
among  the  useful  things;  and  a  tin  reflector  was  placed 
before  the  fire  to  bake  a  shortcake.  There  was  great  re- 
joicing when  the  old  clock  was  fastened  to  the  wall  and 
they  heard  the  familiar  tick-tick-tick  which  would  be  so 
much  company  in  their  new  home. 

That  evening,  after  the  house  was  lighted  by  a  bright 
fire,  Rufus  brought  in  the  wash-tub  and  turned  upon  it 
one  of  the  splint  bottom  chairs,  the  back  of  the  chair  pro- 
jecting over  the  tub.  Over  this  he  laid  his  large  shovel, 
bottom  side  up,  the  edge  projecting  over  all.  Then  a  sheep- 
skin tanned  with  the  wool  on  was  thrown  over  the  middle, 
when  he  mounted  astride,  as  he  would  his  horse,  and  com- 
menced shelling  corn  by  drawing  an  ear  up  across  the 
sharp  edge  of  the  shovel,  the  tub  catching  the  corn  and  the 
floor  the  cobs.  The  next  day  a  boy  was  sent  with  a  grist 
to  the  nearest  mill,  with  instructions  that  it  be  ground 
coarse  so  they  could  have  samp  and  milk  for  their  suppers. 

Patty  needed  a  broom,  and  it  being  nine  miles  to  town 
Rufus  said  he  could  make  her  a  nice,  durable  one.  He 
hunted  a  birch  sapling  in  the  slashing,  cut  a  deep  ring 

59 


around  the  depth  of  the  brush,  and  then  peeled  off  the 
rough  bark.  Evenings  he  stripped  fine  splints,  holding 
them  turned  back  on  the  handle,  occasionally  tying  them  to 
relieve  his  hand.  When  all  was  peeled  into  fine  brush  he 
turned  this  down  from  the  handle,  broom-like,  and  tied  a 
stout  leather  string  around  to  hold  the  brush  in  place.  He 
then  worked  the  handle  down  to  a  small  size  and  scraped 
it  smooth  with  broken  glass,  after  which  the  new  broom 
was  set  away  to  season.  When  it  was  done  it  would  have 
seemed  a  heavy,  awkward  article  for  a  modern  housekeeper 
to  handle ;  but  Patty  thought  it  just  the  thing  for  such  un- 
even floors  as  she  had  to  sweep.  Her  back  was  apparently 
fitted  for  her  burdens. 


60 


STRANGE  CALLERS. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Cold  weather  began  to  be  felt  about  the  old  log-house. 
There  had  been  several  hard  frosts,  and  the  wind  was  rat- 
tling out  chestnuts  at  a  great  rate.  The  ground  was  nearly 
covered  with  them  in  many  places  in  the  woods,  and  at  the 
stores  in  town  one  dollar  per  bushel  in  trade  was  being  gen- 
erously offered.  Patty  thought  the  children  might  be  help- 
ing to  earn  their  winter  shoes ;  so  she  fixed  them  up  with 
warm  wraps  and  baskets  and  bags,  and  sent  them  out, 
charging  them  to  be  sure  and  keep  within  sight  of  the  clear- 
ings or  the  road,  so  that  they  would  be  in  no  danger  of 
getting  lost  or  being  eaten  up  by  bears. 

Her  husband  was  "choring"  about  the  house,  patch- 
ing and  chinking  the  cracks  between  the  logs  with  strips 
of  lumber,  and  covering  them,  to  hold  them  in  place,  with 
a  mortar  made  of  clay  daubed  on  and  then  made  smooth. 
He  had  dreaded  it  because  it  was  such  a  nasty  job.  He 
was  also  banking  up  around  the  house  with  dirt  from  the 
chip  yard,  to  keep  out  the  cold  and  make  it  more  comfort- 
able in  severe  weather;  all  the  while  thinking  about  the 
first  snow,  and  the  deer-licks,  and  the  hunts  he  hoped  to 
have  in  his  spare  time  through  the  winter.  Patty  was 
thinking,  now  that  the  children  were  well  out  of  the  way, 
that  she  would  get  little  Nat  to  sleep,  as  well  as  the  baby, 
and  then  gear  up  the  wheel  and  go  at  her  spinning,  and  try 

61 


to  finish  her  last  skein  so  that  it  might  be  ready  for  the 
weaving.  Her  husband  was  only  "choring,"  and  she  could 
get  a  picked-up  dinner  and  neglect  her  work  for  one  day. 
Nobody  would  ever  know  the  difference.  Her  plans 
seemed  to  be  working  well,  and  she  was  merry  as  a  lark, 
singing, 

"Contented   I   am,  contented   I'll   be, 

There  are  more  that  live  worse 
Than  live  better  than  me!" 

and  jogging  the  cradle  every  now  and  then  to  keep  baby 
asleep  until  her  skein  was  finished. 

The  skein  was  not  more  than  half  done,  when  in 
rushed  the  children  pell-mell,  half  dead  with  fright  and 
past  speaking  for  several  minutes. 

Her  first  thought  was  that  a  dry  limb  from  the  girdling 
had  fallen  by  the  wind  and  killed  one  of  them.  But  that 
could  not  be,  for  they  were  all  there,  and  she  counted  them 
over  again  to  be  sure  that  every  one  was  safe.  Then  she 
was  sure  a  bear  had  chased  them.  By  this  time  they  all 
began  talking  at  once.  The  boys  said  they  saw  Indians; 
but  the  girls  thought  them  old  stragglers,  or  wild  folks, 
coming  out  of  the  woods.  Their  mother  said  it  might  be 
some  of  their  neighbors  coming  to  call  on  them.  She  went 
to  the  door  and  opened  it  far  enough  to  peer  out ;  and  sure 
enough,  there  came  the  scarecrows,  trudging  along,  look- 
ing as  though  the  pair  might  have  come  from  Noah's  Ark; 
and  they  turned  in  toward  the  house. 

Mrs.  Corey's  first  thought  was  to  close  the  door  and 
pull  in  the  latchstring,  and  fasten  them  out.  The  children 
had  skulked  away  into  one  corner  of  the  room.  But  the 

62 


next  moment  she  felt  ashamed  of  such  a  cowardly  act, 
when  her  husband  was  within  calling  distance. 

So  when  she  heard  a  thumping  knock  on  the  loose 
board  door  she  calmly  bade  the  pair  walk  in.  The  old  woman 
came  first,  and  courtesied  in  a  polite  manner;  and  the  old 
man  introduced  them,  saying  they  were  neighbors  in  the 
new  country  and  making  their  yearly  trip  back  to  their 
former  home  near  Jamestown,  to  visit  friends.  They  had 
heard  of  the  newcomers  in  the  log  schoolhouse,  and  had 
planned  to  stop  and  rest  awhile  and  get  acquainted.  Patty 
called  in  her  husband,  and  took  their  bundles,  and  apolo- 
gized for  the  children  being  frightened  at  strangers.  She 
said  they  had  only  seen,  since  coming  here,  now  and  then 
a  tin-trunk  peddler  with  Yankee  notions  from  away  down 
East. 

Aunt  Nelly  Dibble  wore  a  black  naverino  bonnet,  lined 
with  white  silk  and  trimmed  with  a  few  bows  of  colored 
ribbon  on  top ;  a  gay,  plaid  cloak,  short  and  narrow,  with  a 
small  round  cape ;  a  bombazine  dress  with  one  narrow  ruffle 
on  the  skirt  and  drawn  with  a  string  to  fit  the  waist ;  a  white 
kerchief  around  her  neck  and  crossed  in  front,  and  a  heavy 
string  of  gold  beads.  She  had  on  wooden  shoes,  turned 
out  to  fit  her  feet  and  lined  with  wool  inside ;  and  she  car- 
ried a  workbasket  with  clean  caps,  and  things  needed  on 
her  journey.  She  had  also  a  large  workpocket  with  knit- 
ting, snuff-box,  spectacles  and  a  few  stalks  of  fennel.  She 
walked  with  a  cane,  and  seemed  lame.  Uncle  Dibble's  suit 
might  have  been  one  of  Washington's  cast-off  ones,  and 
worn  by  him  for  his  best  ever  since  Washington's  day.  He 
carried  a  cane;  and  a  white  umbrella  with  a  large  bundle 

63 


tied  in  his  bandana  handkerchief  was  strung  on  it  and 
slung  over  his  shoulder. 

Rufus  said  they  must  stay  and  have  dinner  with  them, 
it  would  be  no  trouble;  but  Patty  began  to  make  excuses 
about  her  neglected  work,  and  the  little  she  had  to  do  with. 

Aunt  Nelly  said  that  seemed  to  her  the  very  time  when 
somebody  was  sure  to  come;  but  they  had  learned  to  be 
satisfied  with  a  crust  of  bread  and  a  good  cup  of  tea.  They 
knew  all  about  "hard  times",  for  they  came  to  the  country 
when  it.  was  new  and  they  were  obliged  to  live  on  potatoes 
and  salt  for  weeks  at  a  time.  Uncle  Dibble  told  them  a 
story  about  his  neighbor,  Pardee.  After  wearing  out  his 
Sunday  hat'  and  thinking  he  must  buy  a  new  one,  he  went 
to  town  to  see  a  hatter  and  leave  his  measure.  The  price 
agreed  upon  was  ten  dollars,  to  be  paid  in  oats  as  soon  as 
harvested.  They  threshed  the  oats  with  a  flail,  and  hauled 
them  ten  miles  with  an  ox-team  and  sled.  It  took  two  days 
to  haul  them,  and  fifty  bushels  to  pay  for  that  new  hat.  The 
old  man  said  many  were  the  hardships  and  privations  those 
early  settlers  had  to  endure,  and  but  few  could  afford  to 
buy  a  Sunday  hat. 

Mrs.  Corey  hung  on  the  tea-kettle  and  put  a  shortcake 
before  the  fire  to  bake,  and  sent  the  children  to  hunt  eggs 
for  a  custard.  The  men  discussed  the  signs  of  the  times, 
and  the  indications  of  some  wonderful  inventions  about  to 
be  revealed,  when  steam  power  should  come  into  common 
use  in  propelling  boats  and  railroad  carriages,  and  when 
tracks  should  spread  like  network  over  the  country.  Mr. 
Corey  said  they  were  already  at  work  leveling  hills  and 
filling  in  valleys,  and  the  object  seemed  to  be  to  shorten 

64 


distance  and  save  time,  and  to  make  travel  easy.  He 
pointed  out  the  advantage  that  might  be  gained  in  their 
case;  where  it  now  required  a  week  of  time  and  travel,  it 
would  then  need  only  a  few  hours  to  visit  their  friends,  take 
tea  and  return  home.  Uncle  Dibble  could  remember  when 
sailing  was  at  the  mercy  of  the  wind,  and  the  Lord  guided 
the  wind  and  the  waves. 

Aunt  Nelly  had  the  third  cup  of  tea,  to  give  her 
strength  for  her  journey;  and  after  dinner  the  men  went  to 
look  at  the  hogs,  which  were  turned  out  wild  during  the 
summer  and  early  fall  to  feed  on  nuts,  and  then  were  driven 
in  to  finish  fattening  on  corn,  which  made  sweet,  choice 
pork.  When  Aunt  Nelly  looked  up  at  the  clock  from  her 
knitting,  she  was  surprised  to  see  how  swiftly  the  time  had 
passed,  and  they  must  get  through  to  the  State  Road,  four 
miles  travel,  before  dark.  So  the  old  couple  started  off, 
feeling  light-hearted  over  this  friendly  call  and  the  priv- 
ilege of  another  stopping  place  on  their  journeys. 

Work  was  fairly  under  way  again  when  a  rush  was 
heard  around  the  house,  and  Rufus  slipped  in  and  without 
stopping  to  explain  matters  took  down  his  loaded  rifle  from 
overhead,  and  was  out  again  as  quickly  as  possible.  There 
was  a  moment's  silence,  then  "bang"  went  the  gun  and 
down  fell  a  beautiful,  great  deer,  which  only  just  before 
had  been  prancing  through  the  woods,  fearless  of  danger. 


Patty  scolded  her  husband  for  making  himself  a  terror 
to  these  timid  creatures,  that  would  very  soon  disappear 
and  take  the  back-woods  for  their  home. 

Rufus  said  it  did  seem  too  bad  that  the  Dibbles  did  not 
wait  one  day  longer,  or  that  the  deer  had  not  come  around 
one  day  sooner,  so  he  could  have  treated  them  to  fresh 
venison. 


66 


THE  LOG-ROLLING  BEE. 


CHAPTER  XII.  . 

Rufus  Corey  was  still  in  his  prime,  slender  in  figure 
but  wiry  and  enduring  in  constitution. 

He  would  step  up  to  a  forest  tree  and  having  looked 
at  its  size  and  standing  and  decided  which  way  it  must  fall, 
begin  to  swing  the  axe  with  all  his  might,  making  the  great 
chips  fly.  Occasionally  he  would  stop  to  take  breath  and 
change  his  position,  bracing  himself  anew ;  then  he  worked 
away  until  the  tree  creaked  and  leaned,  when  he  would  run 
quickly  in  the  opposite  direction  to  watch  and  wait  for  its 
downfall,  which  seemed  like  an  earthquake.  After  the 
crash  Patty  always  listened  in  breathless  silence  to  hear  the 
axe  again,  to  know  that  all  was  well. 

This  clearing  joined  a  neighbor's  clearing  on  the  north, 
and  from  Little  Hill  it  descended  towards  The  Corners  and 
overlooked  the  country  for  miles  around,  making  it  the 
most  sightly  spot  on  the  whole  farm.  But  the  new  settler 
was  causing  great  slaughter  with  the  axe,  and  the  natural 
scenery  would  soon  be  destroyed.  All  of  the  timber,  little 
and  big,  must  yield  to  the  same  stroke  and  fall  in  disorder 
in  the  slashing,  like  slain  soldiers  on  a  battlefield.  It  seemed 
a  pity  that  no  lover  of  nature  cried  out :  "Woodman,  spare 
the  tree  and  save  this  five-acre  field,  the  pride  of  The 
Corners  and  the  beauty  of  your  farm!  Go  further  back 
for  your  slaughter !  Spare  those  giant  oaks,  and  the  beech 

67 


and  the  maples,  the  hickory  and  the  chestnuts;  let  them 
grow  together  another  hundred  years,  until  the  scenery 
can  be  appreciated  and  such  timber  be  of  more  value  than 
all  the  pumpkins  and  corn,  or  buckwheat  and  turnips  you 
can  ever  raise !  Clear  out  the  undergrowth  of  brush,  and 
put  up  seats  for  the  tired  traveler  to  rest  on;  or  dedicate 
it  to  humanity  for  a  resort  where  the  sick  and  the  weary 
may  come  and  pitch  tents  and  recover  strength,  and  get 
for  yourself  an  honored  name !  Then,  in  after  years,  when 
it  comes  to  be  your  turn  to  lay  down  your  weapons  of  war- 
fare, like  Kurler  Bow  you  can  request  that  one  of  these 
giant  trees  be  partially  uprooted  and  your  decaying  body 
placed  underneath,  to  moulder  back  to  dust  and  fertilize 
the  monarch  of  its  race."  *  *  *  No  such  warning 
voice  was  heard;  and  this  zealous  man  left  not  even  a 
clump  of  maples  for  shade  for  his  cattle  or  a  few  scattered 
ones  along  the  roadside  for  ornament. 

The  market  made  no  great  demand  on  the  forests  for 
timber  at  this  early  date.  A  very  small  amount  was  used 
for  building,  for  wooden  bowls  and  rakes  and  axe-helves ; 
and  the  tannery  of  John  Brown  on  the  old  State  road  con- 
sumed a  small  quantity  of  bark  for  tanning  hides.  The  pio- 
neers were  too  far  from  Oil  Creek  to  run  lumber  down  the 
river  to  any  of  the  large  cities.  The  only  way  to  get  rid  of 
it  seemed  to  be  to  cut  it  down  and  burn  it  in  heaps. 

It  proved  hard  work  clearing  land  after  the  tree  was 
cut  down.  The  limbs  had  first  to  be  trimmed  off  and  the 
brush  piled  together,  and  then  the  body  of  the  tree  was 
sawed  into  suitable  lengths  for  rolling  into  heaps.  When 
all  was  ready,  which  was  not  until  the  second  summer,  an 

68 


invitation  was  sent  to  all  the  settlers  to  come  with  ox-teams, 
hand-spikes,  logging  chains  and  other  necessary  imple- 
ments for  a  rolling  bee.  After  all  was  over  the  great  heaps 
were  fired,  and  the  country  round  about  seemed  ablaze,  the 
angry  flames  leaping  high  in  the  air  and  tens  of  thousands 
of  sparks  soaring  and  darting  toward  the  sky;  while  the 
fire,  running  over  the  ground,  threatened  everything  within 
reach.  Several  times  the  old  log  house  appeared  in  danger 
of  being  devoured  by  flames.  It  was  only  a  heap  of  dry 
logs  and  of  little  value,  save  to  shelter  the  family  group, 
who  were  in  the  habit  of  gathering  there  for  sleep  and 
their  meals.  King  Solomon  says  the  sleep  of  the  laboring 
man  is  sweet,  whether  he  eats  much  or  little. 

When  this  fire  had  burned  itself  out  and  all  was  over, 
it  left  a  gloomy  aspect.  Trees  were  injured,  stumps 
charred  and  blackened,  and  the  ground  was  covered  with 
a  pall  as  of  mourning  and  desolation. 

The  squirrels  soon  learned  the  meaning  of  the  sound  of 
the  woodman's  axe,  and  dropped  their  nuts  and  disap- 
peared. The  deer  no  longer  were  seen  bounding  through 
the  woods  with  the  freedom  and  pride  of  former  days,  the 
bears  made  a  new  runway,  and  the  partridge  went  further 
back  in  the  woods  to  lay  her  eggs  and  hatch  her  brood. 

This  ground  had  been  called  rich  soil.  It  had  a  yearly 
dressing  of  leaf  mould  and  forest  action,  making  it  mellow 
and  fertile.  It  seemed  capable  of  raising  bountiful  crops 
to  repay  the  husbandman  for  his  hard  labor.  But  the  burn- 
ing of  such  immense  heaps  of  hard  wood,  and  the  fire 
running  over  the  ground,  heated  the  earth  to  such  a  depth 
that  it  burned  up  and  destroyed  all  this  deposit,  leaving 

69 


only  ashes  (strong  enough  for  Aunt  Jemima's  leach  barrel) 
for  a  dressing ;  and  this  soon  rendered  the  land  almost  bar- 
ren and  a  great  disappointment  to  the  farmer. 

As  soon  as  ground  was  ready,  corn  was  considered 
best  for  the  first  crop,  and  this  was  worked  in  among  the 
roots  and  charred  stumps  with  some  expectation  of  realiz- 
ing at  least  a  half  crop.  With  this  the  farmer  must  try  and 
get  along  until  the  stumps  could  rot  and  then  be  jagged 
out  with  a  team.  Pumpkin  seeds,  also,  were  freely  dropped 
in  with  the  corn,  and  many  flattering  hopes  were  cherished 
about  the  pumpkin  crop,  which  must  answer  for  the  poor 
man's  fruit  the  coming  year.  All  these  bright  hopes  and 
expectations  were  blasted  when  it  was  discovered  that  the 
squirrels,  the  chipmunks  and  the  'possums  had  come  back 
in  force  and  destroyed  every  fair  prospect.  They  may 
have  felt  a  spirit  of  revenge  because  the  fire  had  burned 
their  nuts,  stored  in  holes  and  in  the  roots  of  the  trees ;  and 
when  searching  for  them  and  finding  the  farmer's  corn, 
they  took  it — which  seemed  a  natural  thing  for  a  squirrel 
to  do.  More  seed  had  now  to  be  bought  and  more  work 
done,  and  with  far  less  courage  about  any  great  returns. 

Farmer  Corey  wasted  no  unnecessary  words  with  these 
little  enemies ;  but  he  declared  war  against  them  and  got  up 
an  indignation  meeting.  It  was  decided  to  take  a  week  for 
hunting,  and  kill  off  all  the  pests  that  could  be  killed,  so  that 
at  least  a  small  crop  might  be  raised  to  help  the  farmers 
through  the  coming  hard  times.  Honest  men  were  chosen 
judges  on  each  side,  and  every  able-bodied  man  and  boy 
was  ordered  to  shoulder  a  gun  and  scour  woods  and  fields. 

The  game  was  to  be  counted  by  the  tails,  except  mis- 
chievous birds — among  which  were  red-headed  wood- 

70 


peckers  and  crows,  so  destructive  to  corn — which  would 
be  counted  by  their  heads. 

It  was  not  easy  to  rid  the  country  of  squirrels.  When 
young  Corey  was  clearing  up  his  land  he  had  saved  out 
chestnut  logs  for  fencing.  These  were  split  into  rails,  with 
beetle  and  wedge,  the  wedge  being  usually  of  iron  and  the 
beetle  a  hardwood  knot  with  a  long  handle  and  very  heavy, 
making  it  hard  work  to  drive  the  wedge  into  the  log  with 
sufficient  force  to  split  it.  A  fence  was  usually  laid  up 
about  nine  rails  high,  in  a  zig-zag  manner;  and  when  the 
squirrels  found  that  they  were  being  pursued  they  seemed 
to  realize  their  danger  and  took  to  this  fence,  so  that  it  was 
difficult  getting  a  shot  at  them. 

This  hunt  thinned  out  the  squirrels,  so  that  the  farmer 
raised  enough  pumpkins  for  a  paring-bee  in  the  fall,  atid 
corn  enough  for  a  husking-bee. 


THE  BASHFUL  BLACKSMITH. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

Patty  had  to  empty  her  rag-bag  nearly  every  day  to 
search  for  a  suitable  patch  for  some  dreadful  tear  in  one 
or  another  of  the  boys'  clothes,  made  by  playing  in  the 
slashing,  climbing  over  logs  or  hiding  in  the  brush.  Little 
Nat  had  been  in  hiding  a  long  time,  while  his  mother 
searched  the  house  for  something  suitable  to  mend  with. 

Rufus  brought  in  his  tanned  woodchuck  skins  and 
asked  why  they  would  not  do  to  cover  the  knees  and  seat, 
against  wear  and  tear.  Patty  had  to  laugh  at  a  man's  idea 
of  the  fitness  of  things,  and  said  the  children  already 
showed  as  many  colors  as  the  speckled  hen.  She  told  her 
husband  she  had  a  good  mind  to  sell  the  old  garments  to 
the  ragman  for  two  cents  a  pound.  They  would  weigh 
heavy. 

The  rag-bag  was  the  housekeeper's  savings  bank.  She 
put  into  it  every  scrap  of  waste  cloth,  bits  of  paper  and 
ravelings.  The  contents  were  then  gathered  up  about  once 
a  month  by  an  old  man  going  the  rounds,  carrying  them  on 
his  back  in  summer  and  hauling  them  on  a  bark  sled  in 
winter,  and  blowing  a  tin  trumpet  to  let  people  know  he 
was  coming. 

Nat  had  hardly  got  into  his  breeches  when  his  mother, 
happening  to  look  out  of  the  north  window  towards  home 
(as  she  often  "happened"  to  do),  saw  a  stranger  with  a 

73 


pack  on  his  back  coming  over  the  hill;  and  she  imagined 
that  he  walked  lame  from  traveling.  She  hustled  things 
to  rights  in  a  great  hurry.  She  was  always  looking  for 
old  friends,  but  few  ever  came  in  sight. 

This  man  proved  to  be  Gershon  Holt,  their  village 
blacksmith  from  the  East;  and  he  was  hunting  business. 
They  at  once  informed  him  how  much  he  was  needed  at 
The  Corners,  to  help  build  up  the  place.  They  had  a  rake 
factory,  and  a  wooden-bowl  factory,  and  a  cooper;  and  a 
milliner  who  raised  and  cured  her  own  straw,  then  braided, 
sewed,  bleached,  shaped  and  trimmed  her  own  bonnets. 
With  a  good  blacksmith  they  could  be  quite  independent. 

Gershon  Holt  said  he  could  do  anything  in  his  line  of 
business,  from  shoeing  their  cattle  up  to  mending  the 
broken  eye  of  a  cambric  needle.  Patty  was  much  taken 
with  the  idea  of  having  a  good  workman  near  who  could 
mend  her  broken  needles.  Now,  if  she  happened  to  be  un- 
fortunate and  broke  off  the  point  from  a  good  one,  she  had 
to  whet  out  another  point,  and  could  make  the  needle  do  to 
sew  on  patches  and  buttons ;  but  she  had  lost  many  a  valu- 
able needle  by  having  a  hole  in  her  thimble.  She  wished  he 
could  make  pins,  too.  She  sometimes  got  out  and  had  to 
use  thorn-pins,  and  they  seemed  dangerous  in  the  children's 
clothes. 

They  pulled  every  string  to  fasten  this  newcomer  down 
to  business.  He  was  a  bachelor  and  shy  of  company,  es- 
pecially of  girls ;  but  evenings  they  invited  in  young  folks, 
hoping  he  might  fall  in  love  and  settle  down.  They  joked 
him  about  getting  a  wife,  and  to  their  surprise  he  de- 
clared his  willingness  to  take  one  the  first  opportunity. 

74 


But  he  acknowledged  being  slow  as  well  as  bashful,  and 
needing  help.  He  said  marriage  seemed  like  a  lottery 
anyway,  and  he  supposed  he  might  as  well  choose  blind- 
folded. He  offered  to  give  all  he  possessed,  which  was 
his  dog  and  gun  and  fifty  cents  in  money  left  over  from 
traveling  expenses,  to  anyone  who  would  find  a  suitable 
wife  for  him. 

Rufus  Corey  kindly  volunteered  to  assist  in  the  mat- 
ter, free  of  charge.  He  knew  very  well  that  if  this  young 
man  was  to  settle  down  in  the  new  country,  away  from 
friends,  the  first  thing  to  do  would  be  to  get  from  among 
the  industrious  country  girls  a  helpmeet.  He  felt  sure 
that  he  knew  exactly  the  one  he  should  choose  for  him, 
as  a  companion;  but  as  a  matter  of  business  he  cast  his 
eyes  around  the  circle  of  those  present. 

Ethelinda  Peacock  must  have  been  well  on  towards 
thirty ;  so,  out  of  due  respect  to  age,  the  question  was  put 
first  to  her  whether  she  was  willing  on  such  short  acquain- 
tance to  take  Greshon  Holt  for  her  lawful  husband. 

Ethelinda  said  the  question  was  so  sudden  that  it  nearly 
took  her  breath  away;  but  every  girl  in  the  room  knew 
well  enough  that  she  never  would  let  the  best  chance  (no 
doubt  the  only  one)  of  her  life  pass  round  to  anybody  else. 
She  looked  anxiously  at  the  young  man,  and  by  the  dim 
light  of  the  tallow  candle  she  saw  that  he  had  a  pleasing 
face.  She  had  no  time  to  inquire  into  his  habits  of  life: 
and  after  short  reflection  she  said  "Yes".  That  settled 
the  matter. 

The  sky  was  black  with  clouds  which  threatened  storm, 

75, 


but  late  as  it  was  Rufus  Corey  tramped  three  full  miles  to 
bring  the  Squire  to  tie  the  matrimonial  knot  securely. 

In  the  meantime,  a  delegation  was  chosen  and  had 
been  sent  to  consult  with  the  Peacock  family  to  get  their 
consent,  so  that  everything  be  done  properly. 

Uncle  Solomon  and  Aunt  Charity  had  retired  for  the 
night,  and  were  sound  asleep ;  but  they  made  no  fuss  about 
being  disturbed  and  no  objection  to  their  daughter's  getting 
married,  although  it  did  seem  sudden  and  a  great  surprise. 

Ethelinda  gathered  up  a  pan  of  fresh  dough-nuts,  and 
a  huge  piece  of  sage-cheese,  and  hurried  back  to  be  on  time 
for  the  ceremony. 

This  match  proved  to  be  one  of  the  number  made  in 
Heaven. 


76 


THE  BACKWOODS  SCHOOL. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

Mrs.  Corey  had  always  mourned  for  some  of  the 
privileges  she  was  obliged  to  leave  behind  when  she  started 
West.  Among  others  was  the  Village  Infant  School,  where 
mothers  could  take  their  little  ones  and  leave  them  through 
the  day  for  proper  care  and  training;  then  gather  them 
home  again  at  night  safe  and  sound.  But  here  the  children 
of  the  backwoods  district  must  be  crowded  together,  little 
and  big,  in  one  small  room,  to  try  and  get  an  education. 

The  schoolhouse  was  between  the  deacon's  house  and 
the  country  graveyard,  and  the  deacon's  wife  kindly  offered 
to  signal  the  noon  hour  by  hanging  out  a  white  cloth  from 
her  window  towards  the  schoolhouse,  then  taking  it  in  at 
one.  She  would  hang  it  out  again  at  four  o'clock,  the  time 
to  dismiss.  This  would  seem  a  tax  on  the  deacon's  wife, 
but  she  wanted  to  show  her  interest  in  the  rising  gener- 
ation. 

It  proved  a  busy  time  for  Mrs.  Corey,  getting  the 
children  ready  for  school.  The  boys  must  have  new  shirts 
and  jean  overalls,  and  the  girls  must  have  new  dresses  and 
gingham  aprons,  all  to  be  made  by  her  own  hands.  She 
sent  by  her  husband  to  town  for  pretty  shades  of  buff  and 
pink  calico.  He  suggested  that  she  make  the  girls'  dresses 
with  as  little  work  for  herself  as  possible.  He  said  he  did 
not  care  how  rich  the  material  might  be,  he  liked  to  see 

77 


it  made  neatly  but  plain.  His  wife  was  sure  he  had  in- 
herited his  Quaker  blood  from  his  great-grandmother, 
Hannah  Lightfoot;  but  after  all  his  kind  advice  she  did 
scrimp  the  dresses  a  little  to  get  out  a  narrow  ruffle  for  the 
bottom,  thinking  a  person  might  about  as  well  be  out  of 
the  world  as  out  of  the  fashion.  She  thought  of  the  small 
boy  sitting  all  day  on  those  slab  benches,  with  no  cushion 
but  thin  overalls ;  and  she  guessed  that  for  once  they  would 
be  glad  when  the  time  came  for  patches. 

They  engaged  Miss  Tryphena  Feltebouser  to  teach  the 
school  for  a  term  of  three  months,  at  one  dollar  per  week, 
and  board  around. 

When  the  children  heard  the  knocking  sound  of  Miss 
Tryphena's  great  hardwood  ruler  on  the  window-sash  they 
knew  that  meant  "school  is  called",  and  then  they  must  be 
caged  for  all  summer. 

Nat  and  Towhead  chose  seats  side  by  side.  What 
one  knew  about  the  outside  world  the  other  must  know. 
They  had  rambled  through  the  woods  shouldering  sticks 
for  guns,  ready  to  fire  at  sight  of  the  first  bear  that  crossed 
their  path.  They  were  brave  little  heroes,  but  they  knew 
very  little  about  school.  They  listened  to  the  teacher's 
rules,  and  saw  the  hickory  wisps  and  birch  sprouts  stored 
away  in  the  closet  for  future  use ;  and  they  intended  to  be 
obedient  scholars,  and  let  somebody  else  take  the  whippings. 

But  one  morning  after  school  had  called  and  all 
seemed  quiet,  a  shocking  circumstance  occurred.  Betty 
Briley  came  in  dressed  in  indigo-blue,  with  short  skirt  and 
nankeen  pantalettes. 

78 


She  made  a  great  contrast  beside  the  back-woods  girls 
in  their  long,  scant  skirts.  The  larger  boys  drew  down 
their  heads  behind  their  slates  and  snickered;  and  Nat 
and  Towhead  put  their  heads  close  together  and  whispered, 
very  low:  but  it  broke  the  rules  of  school.  The  teacher's 
back  was  turned,  too,  but  she  heard  all  the  same;  and  the 
way  she  jerked  those  little  urchins  off  their  seats  into  the 
middle  of  the  room  was  a  caution  to  the  rest.  She  de- 
manded an  explanation  of  what  they  were  saying ;  but  they 
were  so  frightened  that  they  could  not  have  told  if  they 
would,  and  they  would  not  if  they  could. 

For  punishment  she  thrust  them  down  on  a  seat  be- 
tween some  little  girls — and  one  was  Betty  Briley.  It 
seemed  a  terrible  disgrace.  A  flogging  with  those  hickory 
wisps  would  not  have  seemed  half  so  bad.  It  proved  to  be 
one  of  those  never-to-be-forgotten  lessons  learned  in  the 
first  days  of  school. 

The  excitement  soon  died  away,  and  it  was  not  long 
before  every  girl  in  the  country  went  into  pantalettes.  John 
Brown  had  many  a  puttering  job  dipping  short  lengths  of 
unbleached  cotton  in  his  vats,  after  hides  were  taken  out. 
Tan  bark  made  durable  nankeen  color,  and  was  thought 
to  be  cheaper. 

The  circuit  preacher  came  around  every  four  weeks 
to  hold  meetings  in  the  new  schoolhouse,  instead  of  in  the 
deacon's  barn,  which  seemed  more  sanctimonious.  For 
his  dedication  sermon  he  took  for  his  text;  "And  a  little 
child  shall  lead  them,"  and  Nat  wondered  if  it  could  be 
that  the  preacher  meant  Betty  Briley;  but  he  noticed 
that  he  did  not  say  anything  about  pantalettes. 

79 


Miss  Tryphena  found  a  welcome  in  every  house  in 
going  her  rounds  and  boarding.  Great  pains  was  taken 
in  scrubbing  and  scouring,  in  baking  and  fixing  up  to 
make  her  week  seem  as  pleasant  as  could  possibly  be ;  and 
now  it  had  come  the  turn  of  the  Corey  family  to  open  their 
door  and  show  their  hospitality.  Their  house  was  old  and 
rough  and  dirty,  and  Mrs.  Corey  declared  with  tears  in 
her  eyes  that  she  could  not  make  the  week  pleasant  or 
comfortable.  Mr.  Corey  wanted  to  be  hospitable  and  kind 
as  others  had  been,  although  he  knew  very  well  what  a 
heavy  burden  his  wife  was  carrying.  So  he  volunteered 
to  cook  the  Sunday's  dinner  if  she  would  try  to  pull  through 
the  rest  of  the  week. 

Patty  smiled  through  her  tears  at  what  seemed  to 
her  a  ludicrous  idea.  Then  she  remembered  hearing  him 
tell  of  some  wonderful  cooking  he  had  done  when  off  in 
the  woods  hunting,  when  he  had  no  one  but  himself  to 
please.  She  remembered  some  doughnuts  which  he  had 
fried  in  bear's  oil  and  brought  home  as  a  sample  for  her. 
She  was  willing  he  should  try  his  skill  at  cooking ;  but  she 
assured  him  he  would  find  it  harder  than  a  day's  logging. 
So  the  matter  was  arranged. 

He  slept  soundly.  The  dinner  question  did  not  inter- 
fere with  his  sleep,  but  his  wife  never  closed  her  eyes, 
thinking  and  planning  the  whole  night  through. 

In  the  morning  Rufus  built  an  extra  large  fire,  so  he 
could  have  plenty  of  nice  hardwood  coals,  and  Patty  put 
on  a  clean  checked  apron  and  sat  down  in  her  rocking  chair, 
jogging  the  cradle  partly  from  force  of  habit,  wondering 
all  the  time  what  kind  of  a  meal  her  husband  could  get 

80 


up  for  company.  She  expected  every  minute  to  be  called 
on  to  help  out.  She  was  sure  his  good  fire  would  be  half 
the  battle,  and  he  still  kept  piling  on  wood  and  stirring  it. 
He  had  the  night  before  rolled  up  his  clean  shirt  and 
tucked  it  under  his  arm  and  started  off  for  the  mill-pond 
to  take  a  swim  and  wash  up. 

He  now  rolled  up  his  shirt  sleeves  and  began  scrub- 
bing his  hands,  meanwhile  telling  the  family  about  a  time 
when,  out  on  a  long  hunt  and  away  from  his  shanty,  he 
became  very  hungry  and  feeling  as  though  he  could  di- 
gest tenpenny  nails,  he  stopped  at  a  wigwam  and  asked 
the  squaw  to  bake  him  a  cake.  He  told  her  to  first  wash 
her  hands,  and  to  make  it  nice.  She  went  to  work  at  a 
great  rate,  and  he  felt  satisfied  that  for  once  she  must  be 
clean;  but  to  his  horror  she  took  the  water  in  which  she 
had  scrubbed  herself  so  thoroughly  to  mix  his  cake. 

After  washing  some  of  the  fairest  of  his  potatoes  he 
laid  them  on  the  hearth  before  the  fire  to  dry;  then  he 
put  them  in  one  corner  and  covered  them  with  ashes,  and 
then  with  live  coals  and  ashes  again,  and  left  them  to  roast. 
In  the  other  corner  some  corn  cobs  were  burning.  The 
ashes  of  these  he  gathered  up  in  a  tea-cup,  and  poured 
water  over  them.  When  this  settled  he  used  it  as  a  pear- 
lash,  or  soda,  to  sweeten  the  sour  milk  and  make  light 
his  shortcake,  which  he  baked  before  the  fire  in  the  tin  re- 
flector. He  knew  that  Patty  was  smiling  to  see  his  awk- 
ward way  of  rolling  out  his  cake  and  scoring  it  across, 
and  he  did  wish  she  would  go  out  with  the  children  and 
take  the  fresh  air,  and  not  watch  everything  he  undertook. 
He  shaved  some  thin  slices  of  salt  pork  and  placed  them 

81 


before  the  fire  to  fry  to  a  crisp.  When  done  he  lifted  them 
out,  sliced  in  potatoes  which  were  not  so  fair,  then  added 
a  pinch  more  of  salt,  a  small  bit  of  red  pepper  and  a  little 
hot  water,  to  cook  and  make  them  juicy.  The  meat  he 
served  with  his  stew. 

Patty  saw  that  the  table  was  not  yet  set,  the  tea-kettle 
was  not  over,  and  the  sweat  was  standing  in  great  drops 
on  her  husband's  forehead.  Several  times  he  drew  his 
clean  sleeve  across  his  face;  and  he  acknowledged  that 
there  were  too  many  irons  in  the  fire  for  him.  He  looked 
anxiously  out  to  see  if  the  schoolma'am  was  coming  on 
time. 

When  she  did  come  she  was  very  sweet  and  smiling, 
telling  them  about  the  meeting.  She  was  hungry  and 
enjoyed  everything,  especially  the  stew — which  pleased 
the  cook. 

He  said  to  his  wife  that  he  did  not  think  Miss  Try- 
phena  at  all  stuck  up. 


HICKORY  CORNERS. 

CHAPTER   XV. 

A  hickory  pole  was  raised  about  the  time  of  Harri- 
son's nomination  to  the  presidency,  and  a  flag  waved  over 
the  old  log  house  bearing  the  name  in  bold  letters,  "Hick- 
ory Corners". 

Mr.  Corey  had  lost  his  cattle  from  storm  and  ex- 
posure until  he  considered  a  barn  a  necessity,  or  he  would 
be  in  danger  of  losing  his  horse  team,  too.  While  clear- 
ing land  he  had  saved  out  some  fine  logs  and  hauled  them 
to  the  nearest  mill  to  lie  there  until  he  could  get  them 
sawed. 

Heavy  timber  was  used  in  this  wooden  country,  mak- 
ing framing  a  long  and  difficult  job.  The  sills,  sleepers, 
joists,  posts  and  braces  must  all  be  in  proper  places  to  be 
handy  and  make  raising  easy.  None  but  a  skilled  work- 
man could  safely  be  trusted  with  the  raising  of  such  a 
heavy  building. 

They  had  chosen  a  fine  site,  at  proper  distance  from 
the  house,  so  the  barn  would  show  off  well  and  add  beauty 
and  enterprise  to  the  Corners,  "Hickory  Corners." 

It  was  a  joyful  day  to  the  family  and  neighbors  when 
they  saw  a  suitable  force  of  men  gather  on  the  ground, 
and  with  pike-poles  raise  the  first  bent  and  hold  it  in  place 
until  another  could  be  raised,  and  fastened  to  it  and  then 
another  in  the  same  way,  till  all  were  up.  Then  some 

83 


courageous  man  climbed  to  the  big  beam  and  with  mallet 
in  hand  drove  the  great  wooden  pins  to  hold  the  frame 
securely,  when  it  was  ready  for  rafters. 

Every  man  had  showed  an  iron  constitution  as  well 
as  a  ready  hand  until  the  frame  stood  upright,  a  skeleton, 
but  a  credit  to  their  labor,  as  well  as  to  the  boss  of  the 
job.  The  old  brown  jug  was  now  passed  around  and 
treat  given,  after  which,  one  man  climbed  to  the  big  beam 
with  jug  in  hand  and  named  the  building,  calling  it 

"Rufus'  industry  and  Patty's  delight^ 
A  long  time  framing  but  raised  before  night." 
The  men  next  drank  the  owner's  health  and  happi- 
ness and  gave  three  rousing  cheers  which  made  the  woods 
ring,  and  the  empty  jug  was  then  thrown  to  the  ground 
and  dashed  to  pieces,  and  the  men  were  invited  to  the 
house  for  a  hearty  meal. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  the  new  barn  was  finished, 
and  when  it  was  done  it  looked  so  cheerful  and  inviting, 
with  its  resinous  smell  of  pine  lumber  fresh  from  the  mill, 
that  Patty  decided  she  would  like  to  move  the  cradle  and 
spinning-wheel  out  there  for  a  change.  The  logs  in  her 
hpuse  were  rotting  and  had  a  musty,  dirty  smell,  and  she 
was  tired  of  so  much  care  and  hard  work.  It  was  work 
from  morning  till  late  at  night,  to  get  enough  to  feed  and 
clothe  so  many  growing  children  decently. 

If  they  were  out  of  sight  they  Avere  sure  to  be  in 
mischief :  what  one  could  not  think  of  another  could.  One 
boy  was  liable  to  chop  off  his  brother's  fingers  learning 
to  use  the  axe,  and  another  rascal  to  get  stung  catching 
bumble-bees  for  their  honey.  Some  little  girl  would  be 

84 


found  guilty  of  squeezing  to  death  half  a  brood  of  soft, 
downy  chickens,  and  baby  would  be  sure  to  fall  down  in 
a  bed  of  chestnut  burrs.  She  must  be  within  calling  dis- 
tance in  case  of  an  emergency;  and  she  dared  not  give 
out,  for  who  could  fill  her  place?  She  often  wished  some 
kind  body  would  step  in  and  share  the  burdens  of  her  care- 
worn life.  The  only  spare  room  she  could  offer  would 
be  the  one  made  by  draping  sheets  for  curtains  from  a 
tester-frame  about  a  high-post  bedstead,  with  foot  cur- 
tains frilled  around  to  hide  from  view  a  trundle-bed  which 
was  run  under  the  bed  during  the  day,  and  pulled  out  into 
the  room  at  night  for  the  children.  She  was  proud  of 
that  bed  in  the  corner,  made  up  high  enough  for  a  step- 
ladder,  spread  over  with  patchwork  quilts  and  kept  for 
company;  where  one  could  retire  and,  pulling  together 
the  drapery,  shut  out  the  family,  think  over  the  past  and 
dream  of  the  future. 

"Hickory  Corners"  had  become  quite  an  important 
center. 

When  a  doctor's  services  were  needed  one  doctor 
answered  the  call  for  miles  around,  carrying  in  his  saddle- 
bags plenty  of  calomel,  his  favorite  medicine  in  most  cases, 
a  lance  for  bleeding  his  patients,  and  turnkeys  for  pulling 
teeth.  The  sight  of  this  doctor  coming  toward  the  house 
has  been  known  to  completely  cure  the  most  severe  attack 
of  jumping  toothache,  so  great  was  the  dread  of  having 
to  sit  down  on  the  floor,  with  the  head  placed  securely  be- 
tween the  doctor's  knees  and  both  hands  stoutly  held,  to 
prevent  their  interfering  with  business.  The  doctor's 
process  was  to  first  slowly  cut  away  the  gum  from  the 
tooth,  when  he  granted  a  moment's  time  to  spit  blood  and 

85 


take  breath.  Then  he  braced  himself  for  a  desperate 
struggle  with  cold  iron,  turning  and  pulling  with  all  his 
strength.  Perhaps  even  then  the  instrument  slipped  off, 
leaving  the  tooth  only  half  way  out;  when  both  doctor 
and  patient  must  get  ready  for  another  pull. 

When  help  from  the  doctor's  wife  was  needed  she 
mounted  the  horse  behind  her  husband,  seated  on  a  tanned 
sheepskin  with  its  wool-side  up,  and  they  trotted  off.  They 
always  kept  a  horse  that  would  carry  double;  and  many  a 
time  her  watchful  care  and  good  nursing  in  the  sick  room 
did  more  towards  the  patient's  recovery  than  all  the  con- 
tents of  the  doctor's  saddle-bags.  Aunt  Artemisia  never 
stopped  for  frizzes  or  furbelows.  By  the  time  the  old 
horse  could  be  got  ready  she  was  ready. 

One  dark  night  when  all  were  in  bed  and  sound 
asleep  the  dogs  set  up  a  spirited  barking,  and  a  horse  was 
heard  coming  at  full  speed  towards  the  house.  Aunt  Arte- 
misia jumped  out  of  bed,  hardly  half  awake,  and  began 
feeling  for  her  bag  of  herbs  so  as  to  be  ready  for  a  start 
off  to  see  some  sick  body ;  when  a  young  voice  called  out 
that  Mrs.  Bulgrine's  baby  had  a  pain  in  his  stomach  and 
she  wanted  to  borrow  the  doctor's  camphor  bottle. 

"Is  that  all  ?"  cried  Aunt  Artemisia. 

It  was  towards  morning  before  the  family  could  quiet 
their  nerves  and  go  to  sleep  again. 


86 


GENERAL  TRAINING. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

It  was  General  Training,  a  big  day  in  town,  ten  miles 
away. 

People  had  to  get  an  early  start  to  be  there  in  time 
for  the  full  benefit  of  the  parade. 

Mrs.  Corey  had  watched  the  great  load  of  brave  men, 
with  their  brass  buttons  shining  in  the  sun  and  tall  plumes 
waving  in  the  breeze,  till  the  wagon  disappeared  behind 
the  trees,  thinking  how  respectable  they  looked  in  their 
military  outfit.  She  hoped  the  drill  and  sound  of  fife  and 
drum  once  more  would  have  a  tendency  to  enliven  their 
spirits  and  give  them  new  courage  for  their  hardships. 
She  said  it  did  seem  a  little  lonesome  outside,  not  to  be 
able  to  hear  the  familiar  sound  of  axe  or  hoe,  and  several 
times  during  the  day  she  thought  she  heard  martial  music 
in  the  distance;  but  it  proved  to  be  only  Uncle  Solomon's 
bees,  which  took  it  in  their  heads  to  swarm  as  soon  as  he 
was  gone,  just  as  he  said  he  knew  they  would  do. 

Aunt  Charity  and  all  the  children  rigged  up  and  armed 
themselves  with  tin  pans  and  drum  sticks,  trying  to  charm 
the  bees  with  their  music  and  induce  them  to  light  near 
home,  instead  of  going  off  to  the  woods  where  they  could 
have  more  freedom. 

Towards  evening,  and  about  the  time  the  military 
men  would  be  starting  for  home,  Mrs  Corey  discovered 

87 


black  clouds  gathering  in  the  West.  Her  fears  were 
aroused.  She  was  always  afraid  of  thunderstorms.  When 
her  children  were  little  and  she  saw  a  storm  coming  up 
she  gathered  in  her  brood  and  put  them  in  the  middle  of 
the  feather  bed,  while  she  got  down  the  dusty  bible  and 
took  her  seat  beside  them,  searching  for  a  promise  of  pro- 
tection in  the  hour  of  need. 

All  the  while  the  clouds  were  growing  blacker  off  to- 
wards town.  The  storm  must  strike  the  men  somewhere 
on  the  way  home,  and  there  was  only  now  and  then  a  small 
clearing  the  whole  ten  miles.  Soon  the  wind  began  blow- 
ing a  terrible  gale  and  the  lightning  flashed  and  streaked 
the  sky  constantly.  Mrs.  Corey  began  to  walk  the  floor 
and  wring  her  hands  in  agony,  declaring  the  men  and 
team  must  be  killed  by  the  falling  timber  or  struck  by 
lightning.  It  did  seem  a  sad  thought  to  have  to  bury  all 
the  men  of  that  little  settlement  who  were  able  to  do  mili- 
tary duty,  and  leave  their  helpless  families  to  suffer. 

Nothing  could  be  said  or  done  to  afford  the  slightest 
relief.  The  danger  was  becoming  alarming  to  all. 

Suddenly  a  gale  struck  the  girdling  and  the  great 
trees  fell,  while  the  limbs  flew  through  the  air  like  feathers, 
making  a  frightful  scene  outside.  When  it  struck  the 
house,  off  went  a  part  of  the  old  shake  roof,  letting  in  the 
pouring  rain.  The  hailstones  had  already  broken  the  win- 
dows. The  children  took  to  the  trundle  beds  for  safety. 

In  the  midst  of  this  greatest  confusion  up  flew  the 
wooden  latch  and  in  dodged  one  of  the  lost  men  with  his 
tall  hat  and  cocks  plume  and  surtout  with  its  many  capes 
and  brass  buttons  all  drenched  and  dripping  wet.  They 

88 


had  had  a  miraculous  escape.  They  gave  the  horses  a 
loose  rein  and  the  frightened  animals  ran  over  fallen  tim- 
ber, brush  and  everything  in  their  way,  spilling  out  their 
groceries,  but  every  man  was  safe  from  accident. 

A  rousing  fire  was  built  to  dry  the  room  and  cook 
something  to  eat.  Patty  hung  on  the  tea-kettle  and  went 
out  calling,  "Co,  boss !  Co,  boss !"  The  cow  did  not  come. 
Patty  was  alarmed.  "The  cow  would  surely  come  when 
she  heard  my  voice,  if  she  could,"  she  said. 

She  skimmed  her  last  pan  of  milk  to  get  cream  for  tea 
and  milk  for  the  children. 

In  the  morning  Mr.  Corey  crept  from  bed  before  it 
was  light  to  look  over  the  farm,  and  see  what  damages  had 
been  done  to  timber  and  fences,  and  to  try  and  find  poor 
Spot,  the  last  of  their  York  State  cows.  She  had  seen 
the  storm  coming  and  started  for  home  with  a  bag  full  of 
rich  milk  for  her  mistress  and  the  children,  when  a  dry 
limb  of  an  old  tree  was  snapped  off  and  fell  on  her  leg, 
breaking  it  so  she  could  go  no  further,  but  had  to  lie  there 
through  all  the  storm  in  agony  and  fright.  When  he  found 
her  she  moaned  to  let  him  know  she  wanted  help. 

Brave  as  her  master  had  always  been  with  his  gun 
he  had  to  call  on  a  neighbor  to  help  him  out  of  this  terrible 
trouble.  i 


89 


HARD  TIMES. 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

Hard  times  began  to  be  seriously  felt  throughout  the 
new  country.  Men  were  pushed  to  the  wall  in  money  mat- 
ters. There  was  not  enough  money  circulating  to  pay 
taxes.  Life  seemed  a  great  struggle,  but  nobody  went 
crazy  over  it.  Like  one  great  family  they  tried  to  share 
each  other's  burdens  in  neighborly  kindness  and  brotherly 
love. 

A  full-grown  man  worked  hard  in  haying  from  day- 
light till  dark  for  fifty  cents  per  day.  All  was^barter  and 
trade. 

The  merchant  bought  the  farmer's  butter  and  eggs, 
and  whatever  else  he  raised  to  turn  off,  but  had  to  pay  him 
from  behind  his  counter  in  dry  goods  and  groceries. 

Economy  was  an  art  much  studied  in  every  home. 

Women  made  over  their  worn  dresses,  turning  them 
upside  down  and  back  side  in  front,  and  these  garments 
seemed  fresh  and  new.  If  they  were  fortunate  and  could 
have  really  new,  they  made  them  by  hand  and  only  wore 
them  on  extra  occasions;  and  then  they  would  begin  to 
unfasten  them  as  soon  as  they  reached  the  chip-yard1,  to 
be  ready  to  step  out  of  them  and  into  a  work  dress  the 
minute  they  got  inside  the  house  and  behind  the  curtains. 

A  shoemaker  came  to  the  house  with  his  kit  of  tools 
to  shoe  the  family.  He  took  the  measure  of  little  and  big 

91 


by  standing  each  heel  against  the  wall  with  the  weight 
thrown  on  said  foot,  when  a  point  of  a  knife  was  stuck  in 
the  floor  at  the  tip  of  the  big  toe.  Then  the  foot  was  re- 
moved and  the  space  measured.  All  shoes  were  made  low 
with  straps  to  lace  across  and  commonly  tied  with  leather 
strings.  The  larger  girls  had  to  have  turned  pumps  made 
of  soft  leather  to  dance  in.  Rawhides  were  carried  to  the 
tannery  of  John  Brown,  on  the  Old  State  road,  and  tanned 
on  shares. 

The  Corey  family  had  been  without  milk  for  a  long 
time.  One  day  their  neighbor,  Mrs.  Little,  came  around 
and  offered  to  trade  them  a  young  heifer  and  take  pay  in 
spinning.  She  would  sell  the  heifer  for  ten  dollars  and 
pay  one  dollar  a  week  with  board  for  a  full  week's  work. 

Hilda  was  on  tiptoe  to  make  herself  tall  enough  to 
reach  the  spindle  and  try  her  luck  at  buying  a  cow  for 
the  family.  So  she  tied  up  her  little  bundle  and  went  over 
the  hill  to  begin  on  her  job.  With  the  ease  and  grace  of 
an  expert  she  danced  out  and  back  to  the  spindle  until  all 
was  ready  to  reel,  the  while  counting  to  keep  it  in  mind 
"Forty  threads  around  the  reel  make  one  knot;  ten  knots 
make  one  skein  and  four  skeins  make  one  day's  work." 
Then  she  twisted  up  her  skein  and  hung  it  away  on  a  peg 
driven  in  the  log  wall  for  that  purpose.  This  was  her  first 
day's  work.  All  other  days  must  be  the  same  for  ten 
weeks :  then  she  could  drive  home  her  cow.  It  seemed  a 
long  time  to  Hilda  to  wait  to  have  her  cow  become  useful 
to  the  family. 

Spring  did  come  finally  and  the  grass  began  to  start 
and  look  green  in  the  pastures,  when  one  morning  the  little 
folks  were  surprised  to  hear  that  a  young  calf  had  come 

92 


to  the  barn  during  the  night,  and  that  it  looked  for  all  the 
world  like  poor  old  Spot,  their  York  State  cow  that  died. 
All  agreed  that  the  calf  must  be  raised  and  have  half  the 
milk  until  it  could  eat  grass,  the  calf  to  be  served  first  be- 
cause it  had  the  first  right. 

The  little  ones  watched  their  mother  when  she  took 
a  little  tin  pail  and  stripped  the  richer  half  of  the  milk  that 
remained  after  the  calf  was  satisfied.  Then  she  added  to 
it  as  much  spring-water,  to  make  it  go  around.  She  had 
to  do  this  so  many  times  a  day  that  they  decided  to  call 
the  cow  "Little  Stripper".  Their  plans  seemed  now  to 
be  working  finely  for  their  cow  to  raise  the  calf  and  the 
children,  too. 

But,  to  their  surprise  and  horror,  word  came  that 
"Little  Stripper"  had  been  driven  by  unruly  cattle  into  the 
pond  of  water  and  was  dying  with  chills,  and  still  worse 
the  constable  had  been  there  and  levied  on  Mr.  Corey's 
team  for  unpaid  taxes.  He  could  not  raise  any  money, 
and  his  neighbors  had  none  that  he  could  borrow.  Mr. 
Corey  said  he  was  sure  none  of  his  neighbors  would  be 
mean  enough  to  bid  on  his  team ;  but  he  did  not  .know  who 
the  constable  might  find  to  do  such  an  unkind  act. 

Rufus  went  to  his  cupboard  shelf  and  took  his  glass 
of  tansy  bitters,  and  asked  his  wife  to  take  a  sip  to  help 
to  keep  her  spirits  up.  Patty  shook  her  head.  She  could 
not  speak.  She  was  heartsick  and  wished  that  they  had 
kept  the  old  emigrant  wagon  rigged  up  so  they  could  leave 
the  country  and  go  West  again. 

Rufus  told  the  children  to  get  some  dishes  and  go 
with  him  to  the  woods  and  he  would  tap  maple  trees  and 
gather  sap  to  make  them  some  porridge  for  supper,  in- 

93 


stead  of  milk.  They  watched  the  trees  give  down  the  sap 
drop  after  drop,  and  the  sun  heated  the  tins  and  evapor- 
ated it  about  as  fast  as  it  dropped.  The  bees  came  buzzing 
around  for  their  share  to  carry  off  for  honey,  which  made 
their  prospects  seem  doubtful  for  supper,  but  they  allowed 
mother  could  make  it  go  around  by  adding  spring  water. 
Their  father  was  sure  there  must  be  a  bee  tree  nearby 
where  the  bees  were  carrying  their  sweets,  and  he  would 
run  to  the  house  and  get  flour  to  sprinkle  their  backs  to 
mark  them,  and  then  he  could  follow  them  straight  home 
to  their  tree.  He  wanted  to  find  out  how  his  wife  was 
feeling,  too. 

As  he  came  near  the  house  he  was  greatly  relieved 
to  hear  her  humming  in  a  low  voice,  to  the  baby,  and  he 
caught  these  words: 

"There  are  more  that  live  worse  than  live  better  than  me. " 


94 


GOING  WEST  AGAIN 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Ten  years  more  of  hard  work,  clearing  land  and 
struggling  with  all  sorts  of  hardships,  and  Rufus  Corey's 
Western  fever  returned,  this  time  with  a  firmer  grip  than 
before.  His  farm  had  not  come  up  to  his  expectations 
since  he  cut  away  those  beautiful  trees,  and  burned  up  the 
virgin  soil.  Buckwheat  and  turnips  would  do  well,  and 
weeds  grew  everywhere,  but  they  were  not  very  profitable 
or  satisfactory.  Stumps  still  stood  in  the  ground,  charred 
and  blackened  by  the  fire.  The  farm  had  a  run  down  look 
of  shiftlessness,  which  made  him  sick  of  home  and  he  was 
decided  to  pull  up  stakes  and  go  further  on,  to  begin  anew 
and  try  and  keep  pace  with  the  growth  of  the  country. 

He  had  several  times  divided  his  large  farm  to  lessen 
taxes  and  pay  off  debts,  but  it  was  impossible  to  get  ahead. 
He  tried  lumbering  on  Oil  Creek,  but  it  proved  uncertain 
business.  He  little  dreamed  of  the  hidden  wealth  of  that 
God-forsaken  place,  buried  out  of  sight,  but  so  soon  to 
be  revealed  to  a  poorer  man  than  he;  or  of  the  future  of 
the  Seneca  oil  of  which  he  carried  a  sample  bottle  in  his 
pocket,  a  medicine  for  rheumatism  and  many  other  com- 
plaints, and  a  specimen  of  which  the  natives  gathered  by 
floating  woolen  blankets  on  the  surface  of  the  water  and 
then  wringing  out  this  crude  oil,  resembling  cheap  mo- 
lasses. If  he  had  had  any  idea  how  great  would  have  been 
the  excitement  in  the  near  future,  he  most  likely  would 

95 


have  stayed  by  this  country  and  seen  some  of  the  wonder- 
ful experiments  made  in  drilling  down  into  the  earth,  and 
the  spouting  and  flowing  and  overflowing,  until  his  raft 
might  have  floated  down  stream  on  an  oily  surface.  And 
then  came  the  needful  discoveries  in  refining  and  purify- 
ing, until  this  oil  became  a  necessity  in  the  world,  supply- 
ing a  great  want  in  every  home.  This  revelation,  like 
most  other  discoveries,  came  too  late  for  one  poor  man's 
benefit.  The  emigrant  wagon  had  gone  West  again,  car- 
rying Patty  and  her  large  family  of  children  away  from 
such  excitement  and  temptation. 

Rufus  Corey  never  made  one  dollar  in  sepculation. 
He  earned  his  bread  by  the  sweat  of  his  brow.  It  seemed 
sometimes  like  a  poor  living  and  very  hard  work,  but  his 
mission  was  helping  to  pave  the  highway  across  the  con- 
tinent, and  making  life  easy  for  coming  generations. 

When  the  family  had  fully  decided  on  another  trip 
towards  the  setting  sun,  they  told  the  friends  they  had 
dealt  with  so  many  years  to  come  and  take  from  the  house, 
or  the  farm,  things  to  satisfy  all  claims  they  might  have 
against  them.  If  the  deal  seemed  about  equal,  they  jumped 
accounts  and  called  all  settled. 

It  was  concluded  to  let  the  merchant  have  the  farm 
for  store  debt.  He  could  take  it  anyhow,  if  disposed  to 
force  payment.  Mrs.  Corey  exchanged  farewell  visits 
and  drank  tea  for  the  last  time  with  all  the  old  neighbors, 
wondering  if  she  should  ever  have  any  more  such  dear 
friends  in  the  new  country.  It  was  hard  parting.  They 
took  a  last  lingering  look  over  the  farm,  and  drank  once 
more  from  the  cold  water  spring,  and  then  gave  up  all  their 

96 


interests  for  strangers  to  reap,  in  future  years,  the  benefit 
of  their  labor;  and  with  tears  streaming  from  their  eyes 
they  crowded  into  the  little  white  house  on  wheels  for 
another  move  West,  leaving  a  great  vacancy  about  "The 
Corners." 

Uncle  Solomon  Peacock  could  not  set  himself  to  work 
again  for  days,  but  could  be  seen  hanging  on  both  sides  of 
the  line  fence,  with  his  elbows  resting  on  his  knees  and  his 
head  on  his  hands,  having  a  dreadful  fit  of  "the  horrors." 
For  ten  years  these  men  had  worked  together  like  broth- 
ers, changing  with  each  other  in  killing  times,  and  in 
haying  and  harvesting;  in  fact,  all  kinds  of  hard  labor 
seemed  to  move  along  much  easier  when  they  joined  hands. 

The  emigrant  family  soon  became  interested  in  that 
part  of  the  world  through  which  they  were  passing,  and 
they  would  gladly  have  selected  a  farm  by  the  way;  but 
they  were  obliged  to  go  further,  where  land  would  be 
cheap  and  terms  easy.  So  they  fell  in  the  line  of  travel, 
often  stopping  to  rekindle  campfires  which  were  still 
burning. 

When  they  reached  Illinois  they  halted  and  consid- 
ered which  would  be  best ;  to  settle  on  prairie  land  which 
was  all  ready  for  the  plow,  or  go  further  on  and  look  for 
a  timber  claim.  Patty  was  afraid  that  some  stray  spark 
from  a  straggler's  pipe  might  set  the  wild  grass  on  fire, 
and  the  angry  flames  burn  up  her  whole  family.  She 
would  choose  a  hut  in  a  wilderness,  which  would  seem 
much  more  homelike  to  all. 

Mr.  Corey  left  his  family  and  went  into  Wisconsin, 
where  he  found  a  lightly  wooded  claim  with  a  stipulation 

97 


house  on  it,  which  a  former  prospector  had  pre-empted 
and  made  some  pretense  toward  improving.  Then,  for 
some  reason,  he  had  left,  forfeiting  his  claim,  which  Rufus 
jumped.  He  at  once  sent  for  his  family  and  crowded  them 
into  the  little  log  house,  the  doors  and  windows  of  which 
had  been  carried  away  with  the  deserter.  The  first  work 
was  to  hang  quilts  in  the  doorway  for  protection,  and  they 
slept  on  the  floor.  Their  greatest  scare  was  when  they 
awoke  one  morning  to  find  a  full-sized  Indian  standing 
in  the  door,  with  tomahawk  in  hand,  making  a  frightful 
picture  as  he  demanded  bread  and  whiskey.  After  his 
curiosity  was  satisfied  and  he  was  told  they  had  no  whiskey, 
he  went  off,  to  their  great  relief. 

The  country  soon  settled  up,  and  some  of  their  old 
York  State  neighbors  were  neighbors  here.  They  never 
lost  courage.  Prosperity  crowned  every  effort.  They  cut 
down  timber  and  worked  it  into  lumber,  which  commanded 
a  high  price.  The  older  girls  taught  school;  and  Mrs. 
Corey,  with  her  younger  children,  went  out  and  dug  roots 
and  gathered  herbs  and  prepared  them  for  the  drug  mar- 
ket, and  made  it  profitable.  The  family  might  have  starved 
the  first  few  months,  but  for  the  little  patch  of  potatoes 
which  the  early  settler  had  left  behind,  and  the  fine  fish 
they  caught  in  the  river.  The  boys  gave  mother  much 
credit  for  the  delicious  gravy  she  made  for  their  potatoes, 
out  of  spring  water  and  a  little  thickening  of  flour. 

Few  people  can  realize  the  privations  and  hardships 
of  these  pioneer  settlers  in  the  West,  when  they  paved  the 
way  for  a  more  comfortable  life.  Postage  on  letters  sent 
over  five  hundred  miles  was  twenty-five  cents,  so  they 
heard  but  seldom  from  their  friends. 

98 


As  soon  as  postage  was  reduced  and  stamps  were  in- 
troduced a  friend  sent  some  of  the  new  stamps  to  the  fam- 
ily to  prepay  their  correspondence.  They  wrote  up  their 
neglected  letters,  and  then  they  placed  the  stamps  on  just 
like  the  sample ;  but  when  they  saw  that  a  black  mark  had 
been  drawn  through  the  used  stamp  to  cancel  it,  they 
drew  a  similar  mark  through  the  new  stamps,  to  give  them 
the  same  look  and  insure  their  passing  safely  through  the 
mail. 

The  first  crop  of  wheat  was  cut  with  a  sickle,  and 
threshed  by  hand.  A  flail  was  made  of  hickory;  one  stick 
about  six  feet  long  with  a  crease  cut  deep  around,  and  an- 
other about  half  the  length  of  the  first,  with  a  hole  bored 
through  one  end.  This  was  tied  with  a  stout  string  of 
eelskin  through  the  hole,  and  around  in  the  crease  of  the 
larger  stick.  The  threshing  was  done  by  pounding  out 
the  wheat  by  this  flying  machine.  The  grain  was  then 
cleaned  by  taking  it  in  a  stiff  breeze  and  pouring  it  from 
basket  to  basket. 

Every  year  they  raised  larger  crops,  with  less  labor 
in  harvest  time;  and  they  were  soon  able  to  have  a  nice 
comfortable  home  and  some  of  the  luxuries  of  life,  which 
seemed  the  crowning  glory  of  their  old  age. 

One  day  a  forlorn  traveler  bolted  in  without  cere- 
mony, just  as  the  family  had  gathered  about  the  table  for 
their  dinner.  They  often  lacked  chairs  enough  to  go 
around  and  some  of  the  smaller  children  had  to  stand,  but 
the  rocker  was  always  kept  in  the  room  for  manners.  Mr. 
Corey  told  the  stranger  to  help  himself  to  a  seat,  meaning 
the  rocker. 

99 


The  man  unloaded  his  pack  from  his  shoulders  and 
began  to  make  himself  at  home;  and  then  he  asked  the 
privilege  of  sitting  by  to  "sop  his  dodger  in  the  dip."  The 
family  thought  he  must  be  crazy.  Rufus  knew  very  well 
that  they  had  little  to  spare  from  the  table;  but  he  told 
the  man  in  a  friendly  way  to  haul  up  and  sit  by,  and  he 
would  be  welcome  to  share  the  meal,  such  as  it  was.  The 
newcomer  brought  along  his  corn  dodger,  cold  and  dry 
and  hard,  and  Patty  shoved  across  the  table  her  cup  of 
tea;  then  Rufus  put  the  platter  of  fried  bacon  where  it 
would  be  handy,  and  talked  as  fast  as  he  could  in  order 
that  the  stranger  might  have  his  part  of  the  meat. 

The  man  said  his  shoes  had  grown  stiff  by  travel,  and 
he  would  like  something  to  oil  them,  too. 

Mr.  Corey  got  out  his  cup  of  bear's  oil  and  put  into 
it  a  pinch  of  lampblack,  telling  the  visitor  that  he  knew  how 
to  pity  sore  feet.  Then  while  the  shoes  were  being  oiled 
and  limbered  he  brought  a  sprig  or  two  of  green  tansy, 
bruised  it  in  the  mortar  with  the  pestle,  and  put  it  in  a 
tumbler  with  whiskey.  He  took  a  good  after-dinner  dram 
himself,  after  which  he  treated  his  strange  guest,  who 
went  on  his  way  in  good  spirits. 


100 


THE  BRIDE  MEHITABLE  GOES  WEST. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

The  hive  was  getting  too  full,  and  the  children,  like 
bees,  began  to  swarm  and  go  off  to  make  new  homes  of 
their  own.  The  boys  were  going  farther  West;  and  their 
letters  were  very  flattering  about  Nebraska  lands,  which 
they  claimed  were  cheaper  and  the  soil  richer,  producing 
larger  crops  with  less  labor.  The  climate  was  mild,  salu- 
brious and  healthful. 

Berlin  Dana  came  one  day  with  his  heart  in  a  flutter, 
to  ask  consent  to  marry  Mehitabel  and  take  his  bride  off 
West  for  a  home. 

Rufus  Corey  hesitated.  He  knew  the  trials  of  getting 
started  in  frontier  life.  He  knew  it  would  be  a  great 
change  for  these  children  to  leave  a  good  home,  with  cheer- 
ful surroundings,  the  picnics  in  the  sugar  grove  and  the 
sleigh-rides  by  moonlight,  the  huskings  and  the  quiltings 
and  the  weddings,  and  settle  down  to  an  isolated  life  of 
drudgery.  The  tears  filled  his  eyes,  but  he  brushed  them 
away  and  tried  to  be  brave.  He  realized  that  he  was  grow- 
ing old,  and  his  mind  and  his  body  must  be  getting  weak. 

Berlin  and  Hitty  found  the  new  country  to  contain 
plenty  of  land.  At  that  early  date  there  was  little  but  land, 
land  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach  in  all  directions.  It  was 
like  a  great  ocean  of  land,  with  a  luxurious  growth  of  wild 
grass  waving  and  swaying  in  the  breeze  in  such  a  rollick- 

101 


ing  manner  that  it  made  Hitty  seasick  and  homesick.  She 
wanted  to  turn  back  and  find  a  five-acre  patch  of  ground 
near  some  thriving  town,  where  they  might  bring  the  soil 
up  to  a  high  state  of  cultivation  and  try  to  raise  small 
fruits  for  the  market,  and  get  some  enjoyment  out  of  life 
while  being  within  the  bounds  of  civilization.  But  young 
Dana  wished  his  bride  to  make  up  her  mind  to  be  brave, 
now  that  she  had  enlisted.  He  said  that  was  what  the 
soldiers  had  to  do,  and  that  was  what  the  Western  women 
had  to  do,  and  the  only  way  she  could  do.  He  liked  to 
see  great  fields  of  corn,  and  waving  grain  growing,  and 
herds  of  cattle  roaming  over  the  plains  as  the  buffalo  used 
to  do  in  the  early  days.  He  did  not  quite  know  what  he 
would  do  with  so  much  corn  when  he  had  raised  it,  so  far 
from  any  market.  It  was  considered  good  fuel.  He  could 
find  a  home  market  for  some,  for  there  was  little  else  to 
burn.  Corn  would  be  very  handy,  especially  in  blizzard 
times.  Then  he  decided  he  could  get  a  herd  of  swine  and 
feed  his  corn  to  his  hogs,  and  fatten  them  and  drive  them 
to  market,  instead  of  hauling  so  much  grain  so  far.  This 
seemed  easier,  and  would  most  likely  bring  better  returns. 

It  proved  a  severe  struggle  the  first  few  months  for 
Hitty  to  live  down  her  heartaches,  and  the  desire  and  the 
feeling  that  she  must  go  home  and  away  from  the  dreary, 
monotonous  solitude. 

They  selected  their  claim  and  built  a  little  frame 
house,  which  might  very  properly  have  been  named  the 
"Prairie  Shell;"  then  they  moved  in  to  hold  down  their 
land,  and  they  got  a  cow  and  a  herd  of  young  swine  to 
begin  with.  There  were  few  birds  to  sing  and  nest  in  the 
trees,  for  there  were  no  trees.  The  only  music  Hitty  could 

1 02 


hear  was  the  tinkle  of  the  cowbell  and  the  mournful  lowing 
of  the  homesick  cow  tethered  out  on  the  great  prairie.  She 
wondered  why  the  poor  thing  did  not  break  loose  and  wan- 
der back  to  the  herd  for  company.  The  pigs  took  to  the 
dooryard,  but  she  did  not  take  to  the  pigs.  She  was  not 
sure  she  could  find  a  kitten  west  of  Lincoln  for  a  pet. 

The  young  husband  went  with  his  wife  down  to  the 
nearest  settlement,  some  four  miles  away,  where  there 
were  a  few  sod-houses  huddled  together,  constituting  a 
Western  town;  and  on  their  way  home  they  stopped  at 
prairie  dogtown,  consisting  of  forty  acres  claimed  by  squat- 
ter sovereignty.  The  dogs  came  up  out  of  their  holes  and 
sat  on  their  mounds,  made  when  excavating  their  dug-outs, 
and  barked  like  young  puppies  and  were  very  cunning; 
but  the  minute  Hitty  tried  to  pet  them  they  disappeared 
underground. 

They  finally  bought  a  hen  sitter,  warranted  as  faithful 
as  an  old  clock.  They  put  up  a  perch  in  the  wood-shed 
for  her  to  roost  upon.  Hitty  did  not  object  to  making 
biddy  one  of  the  family;  and  they  fixed  shy  places  for 
nests.  But  the  old  hen  had  ideas  of  her  own,  so  she  stole 
away  and  made  her  nest  in  a  little  haystack.  After  laying 
her  litter  she  came  around  with  her  feathers  all  ruffled  up, 
clucking  and  letting  her  wants  be  known  in  a  decided 
manner.  They  started  for  the  town  immediately  for  choice 
eggs ;  and  Hitty  put  down  in  the  almanac  the  precise  time 
biddy  began  sitting.  Fourteen  days  seemed  such  a  long 
while  to  wait. 

But  the  time  allowed  for  hatching  was  now  up,  and 
all  day  long  the  faithful  sitter  had  kept  her  nest  through 
a  drenching  rain,  without  a  morsel  of  food,  for  she  knew 

103 


well  enough  that  if  she  should  let  those  precious  eggs  get 
chilled  it  would  damage  the  whole  lot.  Hitty  worried 
about  the  poor  thing,  and  wanted  to  send  her  crumbs ;  but 
Berl  said  it  would  be  unwise — it  might  make  her  uneasy. 
And  he  probably  was  right.  Men  most  always  are. 

The  rain  continued,  and  it  proved  a  regular  down- 
pour. The  next  day  School  Creek  was  so  swollen  that  it 
overflowed  its  banks,  and  surrounded  the  little  stack,  cut- 
ting off  all  communication  with  the  house.  Hitty  closely 
watched  the  stack.  She  saw  it  move — then  it  turned,  and 
tipped  a  little.  Then  it  slid  from  its  foundation ;  and  again 
she  looked,  and  saw  it  rushing  off  down  the  roaring,  angry 
stream,  and  away  out  of  sight — with  poor  biddy  still  on 
her  nest,  a  faithful  sitter  to  the  last.  This  taught  Hitty  not 
to  count  her  chickens  before  they  hatched. 

After  a  long  time  a  German  family  settled  on  land 
adjoining  the  Danas,  and  it  was  a  welcome  sight  to  see 
some  signs  of  life  across  the  fields.  Hitty  told  her  husband 
that  as  soon  as  the  family  seemed  to  have  things  fairly  put 
to  rights  she  should  go  over  and  get  acquainted  with  her 
new  neighbors. 

One  afternoon  she  dressed  in  her  wedding  outfit  to 
make  a  fashionable  call,  and  Berlin  was  proud  of  her  good 
appearance  and  escorted  her  through  the  fields  to  where 
he  was  plowing.  Before  starting  she  took  from  the  oven 
a  fresh  loaf  of  bread,  and  put  in  its  place  a  tin  can  of  baked 
beans,  to  gradually  heat  and  be  smoking  hot  on  their  return. 

The  German  woman  and  she  chatted  in  a  friendly 
manner,  scarcely  understanding  each  other;  but  it  seemed 
neighborly  to  meet  and  be  on  speaking  terms.  Berlin  quit 

104 


work  early,  in  order  to  see  his  wife  home  safely  and  get 
his  supper  of  baked  beans,  and  they  walked  across  the  fields 
together.  But  when  they  opened  the  kitchen  they  were 
horrified  to  find  the  oven  door  blown  from  its  hinges,  the 
stove  covers  off,  the  room  full  of  smoke,  and  the  air-tight 
can  (in  which  she  had  failed  to  make  a  vent)  burst  open 
and  beans  shot  about  the  room  everywhere — on  the  ceiling, 
on  the  walls,  and  over  the  floor.  Only  two  beans  remained 
in  the  can  for  their  evening  meal. 

When  leaving  the  German  family,  Hitty  had  given 
her  neighbor  a  cordial  invitation  to  come  and  see  her ;  and 
to  her  surprise,  the  next  day  after  morning  chores  were 
done  up  the  woman  and  her  five  children  came  over  to 
spend  the  day.  She  informed  Mehitabel  that  if  she  would 
blow  the  dinner  horn  at  noon,  her  man  would  hear  and 
come  to  dinner  with  the  rest  of  the  family. 

These  neighbors  proved  a  great  comfort  to  Hitty  and 
her  husband,  who  learned  many  valuable  lessons  from 
them  about  farming  and  gardening.  The  German  family 
worked  hard.  He  sowed  grain,  planted  corn  and  made 
garden,  and  in  time  had  a  good  start  on  his  new  place.  His 
five  acres  of  sweet  corn  was  very  promising.  Nothing 
could  compare  with  it  in  all  the  country  round.  When  the 
ears  were  nearly  ready  for  market  he  left  work  for  a  two 
days'  trip  to  mill.  On  passing  by  this  field  he  was  more 
than  ever  before  impressed  with  the  prospects  for  a  fine 
crop,  and  thought:  "This  field  shall  be  entered  at  the  coun- 
ty fair  for  premium."  But  on  his  return  home  no  visible 
sign  of  corn  was  left,  not  even  a  green  husk;  only  bare 
stalks  like  bean  poles  remained  standing,  and  every  green 
thing  in  his  garden  was  eaten  up  by  the  grasshoppers. 

105 


They  came  in  such  immense  swarms  that  they  filled 
the  air,  and  looked  like  a  blizzard  in  the  summer  season. 
The  German  woman  tried  to  scare  them  away,  but  all  to 
no  use.  They  would  not  leave  until  they  had  made  a  clean 
sweep  of  everything. 

When  Mehitabel  saw  them  coming  for  her  garden 
she,  too,  thought  it  a  blizzard ;  and  when  they  alighted  she 
remembered  her  little  peach  tree,  loaded  with  young  peach- 
es and  wanted  if  possible  to  save  it.  She  caught  her  double 
woolen  shawl  and  wound  it  about  the  tree  until  they  should 
pass  on,  and  thought  by  this  means  to  save  the  peaches 
from  being  devoured.  When  the  grasshoppers  had  left 
and  she  went  to  look  after  the  tree,  nothing  was  there  but 
the  bare  stones  clinging  to  the  limbs,  and  no  sign  of  any 
shawl  was  to  be  found. 

This  proved  a  serious  calamity  to  the  new  settlement, 
having  all  their  crops  destroyed.  The  German  was  dis- 
couraged and  left  the  country,  and  his  corn  poles  dried  in 
the  sun. 


106 


PATTY  GOES  HOME  TO  REST. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

Twenty-five  years  of  labor  and  enterprise  had  made 
wonderful  changes  in  the  Western  country.  Towns  and 
cities  had  sprung  into  existence  as  by  magic,  and  comfort- 
able farm  houses  had  taken  the  place  of  the  little  stipulation 
huts  of  the  early  settlers,  indicating  prosperity. 

Rufus  Corey's  orchard,  which  he  had  raised  from  the 
bag  of  apple  seeds  he  had  carried  with  him  and  planted  out 
as  soon  as  possible,  had  come  into  bearing  and  promised  to 
be  a  profitable  investment.  The  family  had  watched  with 
much  interest  for  the  first  appearance  of  buds  and  blos- 
soms; now  the  trees  bore  a  bountiful  supply  of  delicious 
fruit.  Patty  loved  her  home,  and  every  adornment  for  this 
home  was  an  added  pleasure  to  her  life. 

Rag  carpets  became  the  rage ;  and  she,  who  had  never 
had  a  carpet,  determined  to  make  enough  to  cover  every 
room.  It  would  not  only  save  scrubbing,  but  would  look 
so  stylish.  Her  ambition  was  aroused  and  she  soon  con- 
verted the  new  home  into  a  workshop,  where  could  be  heard 
the  merry  bustle  of  busy  industry.  The  workers  stripped 
up  all  the  old  garments,  and  some  not  so  old ;  they  bought 
up  at  the  nearby  store  orange,  red  and  green  calico,  to 
shade  in  with  dull  and  faded  colors  and  make  a  fancy  stripe 
as  gay  as  the  rainbow.  One  girl  set  the  swifts  whirling 
with  three  skeins  of  cotton  yarn,  doubling  the  three  threads 

107 


into  a  single  strong  twine  to  make  a  durable  warp ;  another 
took  the  ball  of  twine  and,  with  the  great  wheel  whizzing 
and  buzzing  at  a  furious  rate,  gave  it  a  hard  twist;  and 
another  was  stripping  the  gay  colors  and  sewing  and  wind- 
ing them  into  balls  ready  for  weaving.  As  soon  as  the 
stripes  were  planned  these  were  wound  on  shingles,  accord- 
ing to  fancy,  and  displayed  about  the  room. 

Mrs.  Corey  now  decided  to  add  a  hit-and-miss  stripe, 
which  would  take  in  all  the  little  bits  and  odds  and  ends, 
and  make  a  great  addition  to  the  looks  of  her  carpet.  Then 
.she  found  that  they  had  run  short  of  pieces ;  and  as  there 
were  no  more  rolls  and  no  more  old  clothes  to  spare,  she 
stepped  across  to  the  store  and  asked  permission  to  look 
over  the  store  rags.  She  came  home  with  a  big  bundle 
of  pieces,  and  went  to  work  cleansing  and  dipping  them  in 
fancy  dyes.  These  would  prove  a  great  help,  and  this 
would  be  the  finest  stripe  in  the  carpet. 

But  when  all  the  home  machinery  was  in  such  happy 
motion,  and  hands  were  busy  and  hopes  were  bright,  the 
messenger  of  Death  came,  all  unexpected,  like  a  thief  in 
the  night,  and  called  for  Patty;  and  she  was  compelled  to 
go.  She  must  leave  the  busy  workshop,  and  her  floors  un- 
carpeted.  The  hum  of  the  wheels  stopped  suddenly,  and 
silence  reigned. 

The  doctor  pronounced  Patty's  disease  smallpox.  It 
must  have  been  brought  by  Indians,  and  taken  by  her  in 
handling  those  store  rags. 

All  along  the  troublesome  years  while  Patty  and  Rufus 
had  journeyed  together,  she  had  been  looking  ahead  with 
courage  and  with  some  expectation  of  one  day  having  a 

108 


settled  home,  where  she  could  rest  and  enjoy  the  comforts 
of  life.  Here  she  had  found  her  ideal,  and  the  long  hoped 
for  rest  from  roving.  Her  husband  closed  her  eyes  in 
death,  and  helped  to  dress  her  in  her  best  for  burial;  and 
strangers  carried  her  out  in  the  night  to  her  last  resting 
place  and  her  new  home,  in  the  graveyard  down  back  of 
the  schoolhouse. 

Rufus  Corey's  hair  whitened  and  his  appetite  failed. 
His  voice  and  hands  trembled.  Patty  was  gone  from  the 
family  for  the  first  time  since  they  set  up  housekeeping  in 
the  little  one-room  house  on  the  hill.  The  vines  still  climbed 
about  the  door,  and  the  pinks  grew  large  and  fragrant  as 
ever ;  but  the  sight  of  her  idols  made  him  sad.  The  family 
circle  was  broken,  and  he  longed  for  the  cheerful  group  of 
former  days.  He  was  almost  persuaded  to  leave  these  old 
associations  and  the  home  with  its  comforts,  the  sugar 
camp,  the  orchard  and  its  choice  fruit,  even  Patty's  grave, 
and  go  West  again,  and,  if  need  be,  live  in  a  dug-out  with 
his  children,  rejoicing  with  them  in  their  prosperity  and 
making  himself  useful  by  looking  after  the  crops,  salting 
the  cattle,  and  tending  the  babies.  He  felt  like  a  wilted 
leaf. 


109 


STILL  MOVING  ON. 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

Rufus  Corey  finally  sold  his  farm  and  household 
goods,  and  loaned  out  the  money ;  and  he  and  his  daughter 
Roxy  took  passage,  this  time  in  the  parlors  of  the  steam 
cars,  with  plenty  of  good  company,  going  West. 

He  had  no  care  about  teams,  no  whipping  horses  or 
oxen  to  hurry  them  up  and  make  them  go  ahead.  The 
iron  horse  rushed  over  the  road,  rain  or  shine,  through 
the  country  and  past  towns  and  cities,  so  swiftly  that  his 
head  grew  dizzy.  Wayside  cottages  looked  hardly  larger 
than  chicken  coops,  and  men  appeared  about  the  size  of 
monkeys. 

His  mind  wandered  back  to  his  early  days,  when 
Uncle  Dibble  and  Aunt  Nelly  took  a  whole  week  to  travel 
fifty  miles.  Now,  with  the  speed  of  the  locomotive,  they 
could  cross  the  continent  in  that  time.  Steam  power  and 
electricity  were  like  infants  sleeping  in  cradles  when  the 
first  emigrant  wagons  began  to  travel  West,  carrying  to 
the  front  the  bone  and  muscle  and  pluck  which  would  pave 
a  highway  and  bridge  the  waters ;  and  later  came  the  iron 
horse  with  these  easy  carriages.  Then,  like  the  Indian  and 
the  buffalo,  the  pioneer  was  ready  to  move  on. 

He  went  back  in  thought  to  his  life  in  the  log  cabin, 
which  now  seemed  full  of  interest.  "Then",  he  said,  "the 
children  were  all  at  home,  and  when  night  came  they  were 

in 


gathered  in  for  their  mush  and  milk,  and  afterward  tucked 
away  in  trundle  beds,  for  rest.  When  they  were  all  safe 
and  sound  asleep  Patty  brought  out  her  work;  and  by  the 
dim  light  of  a  tallow  candle  and  a  great  wood  fire  she 
mended  the  rents  made  through  the  day  in  the  little  clothes, 
while  I  dressed  axe  helves  to  trade  in  the  market  for  tea 
and  tobacco,  and  perhaps  a  little  mull  and  floss  for  babies 
caps.  Patty  always  said  she  did  not  care  for  strong  tea, 
but  she  did  want  it  three  times  a  day  made  weak.  When 
any  of  the  neighbors  happened  in  to  chat  awhile,  she  hung 
on  the  kettle  and  all  took  a  cup  or  two  more.  Such  unex- 
pected calls  seemed  friendly.  But  Patty  used  to  say  she 
should  be  thankful  if  ever  we  got  ahead  enough  to  be  able 
to  keep  some  dainties  in  ,the  house  to  treat  company.  It 
was  so  embarrassing  to  have  to  go  to  an  empty  cupboard/' 

Roxy  was  now  an  old  maid.  Some  years  before,  when 
the  hive  swarmed  and  most  of  the  children  started  west 
with  the  tide  of  emigration,  her  friend  went  too,  to  get  him 
a  home.  But  Roxy  stayed  behind,  waiting  for  the  country 
to  develop,  and  the  home  to  materialize.  She  had  many 
years  of  waiting  and  some  of  doubt.  While  she  waited 
she  taught  the  village  school;  but  now  by  a  mysterious 
Providence  she  was  free.  So  they  had  studied  up  the  path 
which  the  children  had  helped  to  make,  farther  across  the 
continent. 

It  was  early  in  June  when  Mr.  Corey  and  his  daughter 
reached  Nebraska.  Nature  was  having  a  grand  display. 
The  landscape  was  beautifully  decorated  with  a  variety 
of  shades,  from  pale  green  to  the  rich,  dark  hues  of  the 
cornfields.  Hundreds  of  acres  lay  side  by  side,  divided 
only  by  corner  stones  or  imaginary  lines  invisible  to  the 

112 


eye  of  a  stranger.  Barley  and  millet  waved  and  bowed  in 
the  gentle  breeze  and  glistened  in  the  morning  dew;  wild 
roses  and  sweet-peas  and  baby-faces  and  odorous  sage  all 
combined  to  make  the  scene  charming.  Occasionally  an 
old  orchard  of  scrub  oaks  appeared  to  be  dying  with  age; 
and  then  they  passed  a  dry  stream,  its  high  banks  bordered 
with  young  sycamores  and  willows.  But  these  had  no 
beauty  to  compare  with  the  forests  of  the  East  in  the  early 
days.  i 

Twenty  years  of  roughing  it  had  changed  young 
Robert  Thorn  to  a  man  of  middle  age.  He  had  a  well- 
stocked  farm  and  a  model  dug-out  for  a  home,  with  his 
noble  dog  "Cap"  for  companion  and  business  partner.  He 
had  settled  down  apparently  contented  and  happy;  but 
when  he  heard  that  Roxy  Corey  had  come  with  her  aged 
father  to  Nebraska,  he  felt  inclined  to  be  neighborly — a 
characteristic  of  Western  people. 

So  he  made  it  convenient  to  call  and  inquire  after  the 
old  man's  welfare,  to  tell  him  about  the  country  and  to 
renew  friendship;  and  almost  before  the  two  most  inter- 
ested realized  it,  Roxy  had  found  her  long-lost  lover.  There 
was  no  need  for  delay.  They  were  soon  married,  and  Mr. 
Thorn  opened  wide  his  door  and  welcomed  both  Roxy  and 
her  father  to  his  Hide-away  home ;  and  sure  enough,  Ruf us 
Corey  went  at  last  to  live  in  a  dug-out. 

The  wedding  trip  was  only  about  twenty  miles,  and 
the  first  view  that  Roxy  had  of  her  new  home  was  when 
they  stopped  in  a  driveway  in  front  of  a  fine  display  of 
doors  and  windows,  which  reached  nearly  from  the  ground 
to  the  low  house  roof.  The  building  had  much  the  style  of 

"3 


a  modern  playhouse,  and  Roxy  declared  that  it  was  charm- 
ing. Beds  of  gay  flowers  walled  the  front.  From  these 
down  to  the  driveway  the  slope  was  terraced  and  sodded. 
The  house  was  entirely  hidden  until  they  were  directly  be- 
fore it.  Its  frame  was  boarded  over  on  the  outside,  leaving 
the  timbers  to  show  inside;  then  the  mound  had  been  cut 
away  to  let  the  frame  fit  in,  but  projecting  a  little,  to  give 
chance  for  narrow  windows  on  the  sides.  Its  roof  was 
planked  and  then  sodded,  and  was  level  with  the  ground 
above.  Vines  from  the  garden  on  the  mound  were  running 
across  the  roof,  and  trailing  down  in  front,  forming  a 
picture  both  novel  and  pleasing  to  the  interested  party  look- 
ing for  a  home.  The  whole  inside  framework  was  white- 
washed, and  looked  as  spotless  as  drifted  snow. 

For  a  number  of  years  this  prairie  dug-out  proved  a 
comfortable  home,  being  cool  in  summer  and  warm  in  win- 
ter, and  always  out  of  danger  in  severe  storms. 


114 


A  CHRISTMAS  BLIZZARD. 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

Prosperity  seemed  to  crown  every  effort  of  the 
Thorns.  Each  year  increased  their  wealth  in  cattle  and 
hogs,  and  in  harvest  time  their  fields  were  rich  with  grain. 

They  had  built  a  fine  house  and  designed  it  for  their 
lifelong  home,  studying  every  means  for  keeping  out  the 
driving  dust  and  the  drifting  snow ;  yet  when  a  three  days' 
dust  storm  came  it  sifted  in  everywhere,  even  over  the 
milk-pans  with  their  yellow  cream.  This  was  enough  sight 
worse  than  the  dug-out.  Nor  could  Nebraska  climate  any 
longer  be  called  mild  and  salubrious.  It  must  have 
changed,  they  thought,  by  the  country  settling  up.  There 
were  tornadoes,  and  rain  and  hail,  and  thunder  and  light- 
ning, and  piercing  winds  and  blizzards,  with  terrible  re- 
sults of  suffering  and  sometimes  cases  of  death, by  freez- 
ing. Then  Robert  Thorn  would  do  a  few  extra  jobs  about 
the  doors  and  windows,  tacking  on  strips  of  listing  to  keep 
out  draughts,  and  trying  to  pull  the  old  man  safely  through 
another  winter.  After  every  crack  had  been  looked  after, 
and  he  had  done  his  duty,  the  family  would  shut  themselves 
indoors  and  draw  their  chairs  near  the  red-hot  stove,  to 
enjoy  their  own  company. 

In  1883  there  came  a  fearful  blizzard,  the  like  of 
which  had  not  been  known  for  years.  The  windows  were 
so  frosted  that  for  five  days  it  was  impossible  to  see  out; 

"5 


but  on  the  fifth  day  the  sun  shone  on  the  outside  of  the 
pane,  and  the  heat  from  the  fire  inside  thawed  a  spot  about 
the  size  of  a  teacup  on  the  glass.  Mr.  Thorn  had  to 
bundle  his  head  and  ears  with  heavy  wraps,  and  tying  one 
end  of  a  bed  cord  about  his  waist  and  the  other  end  to  the 
house,  so  that  he  could  find  his  way  back  through  blinding 
snow,  he  managed  to  push  out  a  few  rods  to  care  for  his 
cattle  in  the  dug-out  stable.  This  storm  came  on  two  days 
before  Christmas,  and  the  family  had  at  that  time  killed 
and  dressed  forty  young  turkeys,  to  be  taken  the  next 
morning  to  market,  five  miles  away.  The  last  feather  had 
been  plucked  and  the  carcasses  laid  out  in  proper  condi- 
tion to  freeze  and  be  ready  for  an  early  start. 

But  the  snow  fell  thick  and  fast,  and  Christmas  came 
and  went,  and  New  Years  came  and  went;  and  still  the 
roads  were  impassable. 

When  at  last  teams  could  get  through,  the  craze  for 
turkey  was  over,  and  it  was  difficult  giving  them  away. 

During  this  storm,  while  shut  indoors,  interest  in  the 
possibilities  of  the  great  West  again  revived.  The  family 
ransacked  garret  and  closets  for  bits  of  news  and  items  of 
interest  concerning  the  shore  that  lay  beyond.  Their 
thoughts  centered  at  last  on  California  climate;  and  the 
old  man  brightened  with  delight  at  the  thought  of  finding 
a  land  of  eternal  sunshine,  and  he  readily  expressed  a  will- 
ingness to  once  more  move  on  with  his  children. 


116 


A  FAITHFUL  DOG. 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

"Captain"  was  truly  a  faithful  dog  in  the  Thorn  fam- 
ily, always  ready  to  come  and  go  at  call. 

His  master  would  say,  "Come,  'Cap;'  bring  the  cows!" 
pointing  in  the  direction ;  and  off  the  dog  would  trot,  rain 
or  shine,  and  with  no  whining  either.  If  he  found  a  stray 
among  the  cattle  he  set  to  work  to  separate  them  and  drive 
home  his  number.  If  one  of  the  cows  was  missing  he 
searched  until  he  had  found  it.  The  hogs,  too,  were  under 
his  watchful  eye.  If  a  neighbor's  pig  broke  through  the 
fence  he  was  on  hand,  and  chased  and  barked  and  bit  its 
ears  until  the  frightened  animal  was  glad  enough  of  a  place 
to  squeeze  through  and  run  home.  He  knew  his  hogs,  no 
matter  how  many  he  might  have.  When  he  went  out  to 
his  morning  chores  he  would  often  find  a  whole  litter  of 
new  pigs,  all  tugging  away  for  their  meal.  "Cap"  was 
bright  enough  to  know  where  they  belonged.  He  never  bit 
their  ears,  or  chased  them  from  the  pen;  and  he  never 
seemed  quite  so  interested  as  when  he  lay  sprawled  on  the 
ground  with  his  head  on  his  paws  and  a  silly  grin  on  his 
face,  watching  them  get  their  fill.  They  grew  up  under  his 
care.  He  remembered  when  the  cows  were  young  calves, 
born  in  the  night.  He  saw  them  suckled  and  weaned ;  and, 
when  older,  turned  out  in  the  pasture  to  pick  their  living. 
"Cap"  knew  all  the  neighbors  by  name,  and  he  often  went 
on  errands  to  save  the  family  steps. 

117 


One  day  Mrs.  Thorn  was  just  ready  to  serve  a  good 
dinner  of  boiled  vegetables,  when  she  thought  of  Aunt 
Maria,  near  by,  who  was  all  alone.  Aunt  Maria  was  very 
fond  of  mustard  greens.  Roxy  hinted  to  her  husband  the 
idea  of  inviting  their  neighbor  up,  hoping  he  might  offer 
to  run  down  over  the  bluff  and  ask  her  to  enjoy  the  meal 
with  them. 

"Cap"  lay  sprawled  out  in  the  sunshine  taking  a  nap. 
His  master  called  him ;  and  after  the  dog  had  shaken  him- 
self to  make  sure  he  was  fairly  awake  he  was  told :  "  'Cap/ 
go  down  and  fetch  Aunt  Maria  up  to  dinner!  Do  you 
understand?"  The  dog  wagged  his  tail  and  started  off, 
down  behind  the  bluff,  while  the  family  watched  and 
waited  to  see  what  might  happen. 

Aunt  Maria  had  closed  the  door,  and  taken  her  knit- 
ting and  seated  herself  in  her  rocker.  She  began  knitting 
and  rocking  at  a  rapid  rate.  The  house  was  so  quiet  and  the 
rocker  so  easy  that,  before  she  knew  it,  she  was  sound 
asleep.  "Cap"  pushed  open  the  door  somehow,  and 
marched  in  and  straight  up  in  front  of  her.  He  saw  at  a 
glance  the  condition  she  was  in,  and  he  knew  that  he  must 
arouse  her  before  he  could  make  known  his  errand.  So  he 
thrust  both  paws  with  a  sudden  bound  in  her  lap,  and  be- 
gan barking  in  her  face.  She  was  startled  and  frightened ; 
she  screamed,  and  the  knitting  flew  across  the  room  while 
her  heart  beat  like  a  drum.  "Cap"  waited  a  moment  for 
her  to  collect  her  wits ;  then  he  caught  her  skirt  in  his  teeth 
and  began  pulling  and  backing  off,  evidently  trying  to 
draw  her  out  through  the  door.  She  felt  sure  that  some- 
thing dreadful  had  happened  at  her  neighbor's,  and  that 
the  dog  had  come  to  call  her  up  there.  She  imagined  all 

118 


sorts  of  scarecrow  things.  But  she  picked  up  her  stitches 
and  knit  to  the  middle  of  her  needle,  then  she  grabbed  her 
sunbonnet  and  she  and  "Cap"  started  off  up  the  bluff  to- 
gether, to  learn  the  terrible  secret. 

In  the  spring  of  1884  the  Thorn  family  had  disposed 
of  all  their  interests  in  Nebraska.  The  new  house,  de- 
signed for  a  lifelong  home,  and  the  farm  well  stocked  to 
bring  in  a  good  profit,  both  were  sold  and  the  Thorns  were 
getting  ready  for  another  move.  "Cap"  was  growing  old, 
and  dogs  were  a  trouble  in  traveling;  so  they  decided  to 
give  him  to  some  friend  who  would  be  kind  to  him ;  but  how 
to  get  away  from  the  poor  fellow  and  out  of  the  country, 
and  not  break  his  heart,  was  a  serious  question. 

"Cap"  began  to  be  suspicious  that  something  was 
wrong  when  he  saw  the  cattle  and  the  hogs  driven  away 
from  the  pastures  by  strangers,  and  the  house  in  confusion, 
and  the  household  goods  carried  off.  He  would  go  up 
back  of  his  master's  chair,  and  thrust  his  head  through 
under  his  arm,  and  look  him  in  the  face  imploringly  and 
whine  and  cry,  and  ask  as  best  he  could  what  it  all  meant 
and  what  would  become  of  him. 

When  the  house  had  been  emptied  of  everything  but 
trunks  and  a  few  packing  boxes,  the  team  was  made  ready 
and  "Cap"  was  taken  twenty  miles  to  a  friend,  and  tied  in 
the  barn.  As  soon  as  the  team  started  back  and  he  found 
himself  bound  and  a  prisoner  in  this  strange  place,  he 
fought  furiously  and  yelped  and  cried  until  it  was  heart- 
rending to  hear  him. 

The  instant  he  was  liberated  he  bounded  in  a  bee-line 
for  his  dear  home;  and  when  he  reached  the  house  he  went 

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in  and  looked  around.  All  seemed  strange.  Then  he  went 
to  the  old  man's  room,  and  to  his  surprise  Grandpa  was 
gone.  He  trotted  out  and  looked  for  the  cattle,  and  the 
hogs — his  hogs;  all  were  gone.  He  lay  down  in  his  old 
place,  and  buried  his  head  in  his  paws  and  moaned  for 
three  days.  The  strangers  tried  to  make  friends;  they 
set  before  him  bones  to  gnaw;  but  he  could  not  swallow 
food. 

At  the  close  of  the  three  days  he  mustered  up  courage 
to  look  once  more  through  the  house — a  farewell  look; 
when  he  seemed  satisfied  that  he  had  been  cruelly  deserted 
for  life.  He  trotted  back  and  was  never  seen  again  at  the 
old  home. 

Poor  "Cap !"  if  only  he  could  have  known  why  he  was 
deserted,  and  where  the  family  had  all  gone,  and  where 
were  the  pigs  and  the  cattle  and  the  horses,  so  that  he  could 
at  least  see  them,  it  might  have  been  some  comfort  to  him 
in  his  lonely  hours. 

One  day  an  old  neighbor  was  calling  at  "Captain's" 
new  home.  He  was  greeted  in  a  very  affectionate  manner 
by  a  dog,  who  laid  his  head  on  the  man's  knee  and  began 
to  lick  and  kiss  his  hand.  The  man  thought  him  altogether 
too  familiar,  and  sent  him  away  roughly.  The  dog  went 
off,  looking  sorrowful,  and  buried  his  face  in  his  paws 
again. 

His  master  said  to  the  man:  "That  is  'Cap'  Thorn, 
and  he's  pleased  to  see  you." 

The  dog's  black,  shaggy  coat  had  turned  gray;  and 
that  is  why  his  old  neighbor  did  not  know  him. 


120 


BOUND  FOR  THE  LAND  OF  SUNSHINE 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Rufus  Corey  had  been  over  fifty  years  crossing  the 
continent,  following  with  the  tide  of  emigration  West, 
stopping  along  the  way  to  build  rude  homes  for  his  family 
and  to  try  the  soil  and  test  the  climate,  then,  after  a  time 
pulling  up  stakes  and  pushing  on  in  hopes  of  finding  some- 
thing better ;  always  on  the  move,  battling  with  hardships, 
and  enduring  much  pinching  want — and  like  the  rolling 
stone  which  gathers  no  moss,  so  he  gathered  little  more 
than  could  be  stowed  away  in  the  emigrant  wagon.  Now 
he  had  grown  old  and  feeble  and  almost  helpless,  but  he 
was  ambitious  for  one  more  change  to  reach  the  Land  of 
Sunshine,  the  Paradise  of  America! 

The  family  started  for  the  bay  region  of  San  Diego 
county  in  Southern  California,  and  they  settled  on  a  ranch 
in  one  of  the  valleys,  in  an  adobe  house  shaded  by  a  great 
pepper  tree. 

Here  the  road  ended  abruptly  and  before  them  rose 
foothills  some  two  hundred  feet,  making  a  high  wall.  Over 
these  hills  was  Mexican  soil,  and  to  their  right  and  almost 
within  stone's  throw  stood  the  monument  between  the 
United  States  and  Mexico,  speaking  plainer  than  words 
that  they  could  go  no  further  and  be  protected  by  the  Stars 
and  Stripes  of  their  beloved  country. 

Here  they  found  the  climate  delightful,  with  old  ocean 
rolling  forever  onward,  foaming  and  splashing,  making 

121 


it  always  cool,  but  never  cold.  Here  were  no  boisterous, 
chilling  winds,  and  no  storms  of  fearful  thunder  and  light- 
ning; no  tornadoes  or  blizzards,  and  no  fear  of  sunstroke. 
In  fact  there  seemed  to  be  very  little  to  disturb  a  life  of 
quiet  rest  under  the  shade  of  this  pepper  tree. 

Rufus  lived  to  see  California  booming  and  much  of 
the  land  divided  up  into  town  lots  to  be  sold  at  fabulous 
prices.  His  confidence  grew  strong  in  the  future  pros- 
perity of  the  great  West. 

Then  his  spirit  took  another  leap  in  the  dark,  and  he 
was  gone  over  the  river  to  find  Patty  and  his  long-lost 
children.  • 


122 


J^ 


